On Whose Lips Will These Tears I Drop
The Offer of Better Life
The old woman I found on the sidewalk, I made a grandmother. Although the word grandma never again dwells in my mouth, but this time I will say it again to the woman who is either mother who in my eyes she is the one who ever took care of me.
From the incident at the restaurant earlier, he was very amazed at me. In a stammered voice he said, I am the only human who ever fought to save his life from an unbroken hunger.
I should have offered her a place to stay, but that was impossible because I was also a destitute person who was also trying not to die of hunger.
But that doesn't mean I'm superior to him. My looks are not worth fighting for.
Having said that, my purpose in this city is to find a family that God has not yet met, or is struggling to find a destiny about marriage that God says is the secret. A soul mate, a sustenance of encounter, death.
The old woman began not to believe that I was an established person who did not need to be difficult. From my appearance alone, it is not appropriate to be happy, even if it is happy only in my eyes. When I realized my eyes had been closed at that moment I would think of the most fitting face of a woman I could imagine marrying me. It was only natural that she was prejudiced like that. What else if he saw my head, he could have died suddenly because he could see bundles of jerk hair growing in any place. It is in the middle, behind, and the most lush of it is in the ear, like the apes of Astralia.
We talked while walking through the streets in the middle of the city. I was next to him, following the stride that was swaying udders. I didn't know where he was going to take me, which he obviously said he wanted to take me to his house.
For me it was already part of life, somehow I could see the face of grandma on her face, so I was willing to take out a few drops of my blood for her food exchange. So he wants to repay my kindness. When I was confused about where he was going, he offered to stay at his house. It's amazing that God made my story this time.
The road we took was not so far from where it had fallen, only a few kilo meters.
Arriving in a narrow alley, he began to smile at me.
"Are we getting to Grandma?" I asked while looking at him. He just looked at me with the corner of his eye and said, "In a moment, we'll be there."
Along the way in that narrow alley, I rarely saw anyone outside of his house. Just one and they were like corpses, not knowing about our journey. Let alone to ask, just look at them already feel the loss. It is terrible, people who are quite rich even have the abstinence of not seeing the poor.
About 15 minutes walk, the situation has gotten worse, the path that at some point requires me to roll my pants, because of the puddle. From there I could see a small house and even very small.
"Is that grandma's house?" Manyaku flat.
"That's my grandmother's house" her bright smile was clearly visible. Of course, because he went into his house no longer in a famine.
We have arrived, for me this house is indeed worthy of him, a beggar. There are no concrete walls, everything is made of used plywood and the roof of zinc is full of rust. Very low, even the topmost roof I can touch with my hands.
He took the key in his pocket, when he was about to put the key, his hands trembled, never fitting, always deviated and finally he told me to open it.
The sound of the key was clearly open to my eardrum. I didn't push the door, I took a step back to let the host in first. At the very least, he answered my greetings if the feet had gone inside.
"This is my grandmother's house" he walked toward the kitchen. I heard the sound of water falling, I peeked with the corner of my eye, it turned out that he was taking water from the flask. It was fitting that his voice was the same as the water that fell in my village, the sound of water in a flask falling into a glass.
Stepping over to put a glass of warm water on the wooden table in front of me, he asked, "Who were you staying with?" He went back to the kitchen and came back with a glass of warm water for her.
"I used to live with my grandmother, and if she wasn't offended that's why I couldn't let her lie helpless on the side of the road. I saw the face of the late grandmother in the village, on your face. A woman who took my birth mother's place."
"Why your mother?" He sat in front of me while blowing warm water in his glass.
"He died giving birth to me" my face began to change. I was never strong when I told you about my mother.
"Your father?"
"Are you ever murdering?"
"Where may I kill, that is, when the very mother he loved gave birth to me, at that time also my mother who he loved died. I never planned to kill my mother, and if I could I wanted to live until my mother saw her grandchildren had grown up. It was just my wishful thinking, in fact I was a poor baby who was accused by his own biological father of killing his wife, my own mother. That's why he hated me and even wanted to kill me. God gave me a woman who gave birth to my mother. Until he came to pick me up, I never left him. Now he's quiet in nature there, with my beloved mother." Unaware that my tears had flowed down my cheeks, I removed a little haste with my two hands.
"Sorry Grandma, I got carried away."
"Son, said the old grandmother elder, if you cry, then one problem will disappear. Do not hesitate to cry, cry as much as you can, if you can not use tears anymore." She smiled at me and I knew it was just a way to calm me down.
A moment of silence, I saw some black and white photos that were blurry, who the person in the picture was not clear.
"Who's that, grandma?" I asked to open the conversation again.
"That's grandma's parents, the picture was taken before grandma was born." It stood up, and it was like picking something out of a small wooden box behind it.
"He had a wish I couldn't grant, he wanted to see my grandmother have a husband." After talking like that, his tears began to glaze over, several times he leaned towards the ceiling of the house as well as something in his hand that he took from the small box earlier.
I don't know what to do, if I ask I'm afraid he'll be sad and his oldest tears fall prematurely. I chose to shut up, let him vapourize it all on me.
Many events and stories of the past that he told me so bitterly, that my tears also glazed over.
Suddenly from outside I heard a call. I don't know who's coming, but grandma's already walking towards the door to unlock the wood.
"Who's grandma?" I asked as I stared at the door that would open in a few seconds.
*****
Who is the person who will come is yes, who is definitely not you, haha and also not me, because I am already inside as the main character.
Could be
Fariza
Fariza's Mother
The woman in the poem, Nuri Amelia
Or To and Lol, or,
It could be Anu and my best friend from the lost village somewhere.
Please monitor the next up, after 1-2 episodes.
Happy reading
