OWNER OF HEART

The Eps 33

What kind of message is that? Did Pengelana deliberately trick me into being honest about how I felt about her all this time? No. I will never be provoked by the sweet words of the Traveler. I already want to get married. And I don't want to hurt Mom by cheating on her. I really wanted to make her happy, even though I had to sacrifice my feelings.

I'm silent. Choosing to turn off the phone without sending a reply to Pengalana. I thought the traveler's message just now was just a figment of the thumb.

*****

After filing for submission my marriage with Rashid has ended. It's time to go back home. Preparing all the necessities to hold a marriage between me and Seoarang Rashid.

I've been through everything. Without a pause I complained. Why is my life like this? Innocently, a few days back I was so submissive to what Rashid had told me. I'm increasingly wondering about

this flow of life.I question God. Why should I accept this match? in fact, I finally came all the way from Magelang to Jakarta just to meet him and propose marriage with the foreign youth.

Everything has changed completely. My life will soon change direction. Rotating without me intentionally. All that is not because the Rashid family background is located. However, all this I did was to make my mother happy. My parents are the only ones I still have in this world.

I accidentally rubbed thick dust on the windshield of the train. Seen from behind the glass, how the busyness that occurred at Gambir Station Jakarta. All passengers rushed to the train. Do not want them to miss and fail to reach the destination city. The time for the passengers to prepare, just a few minutes before the end of this locomotive, will bring our bodies all to move. Moving from this city to our next destination.

The passengers of the train, many are still boisterous out there. Some of them are brought here by friends or there family. So do I. I was ushered in by a stranger who would soon be the special man of my life. Rasyid told me to be good on a plane. But I refused it. I want to enjoy the long journey to my hometown, all the while thinking about what I've decided in my life.

Sit down and sit down and I am in the train seat. To be exact, I was in a carriage in the tangah section. According to the number listed on the ticket purchased by Rashid, the executive class train. This train will take me home. From the capital, to the land of birth. Lord...is this path that I have chosen truly the best path that you have Ridhoi?

The car bell has been grumbling roaring. Following the instructions for all passengers. By the typical female voice of train stations in the country.The voice recording of a woman who never showed her true face. Is it

a beauty? Or is he really cruel?

The train is preparing to take off. The station attendant out there is now seen walking towards the end of the station hallway. He held the flag of the car departure code. It looks like a pimpong ball racket. Cars

This Taksaka, has a route from Gambir station and its last stop is at Jogja city station.

The driver finally sipped his iron snake. Through the steering wheel he held, he was the most powerful person moving the direction of our steps with his carriage. Iron wheels have been down the steel rail bearing. When the train started moving. It turned out that many passengers were still pacing around in the carriage. Find their most appropriate seat. According to the number that has been marked. If on the streets of the capital, Metro Mini buses are the kings of the streets of Jakarta. However, along the island of Java, the train is the kings of the road.

Maybe I can fall asleep on the way home.

Such is my hope, which ceaselessly shakes. Fatigued, tired and sleepless while in Rashid's greenhouse. Makes me want to immediately pay for the total drowsiness that has been tangled in both eyelashes.

“Excuse me.. Ma'am,” said the middle-aged mother standing next to me sitting down. He suddenly came and awakened my asia. My mother was standing right next to me. Busy to arrange a lot of luggage in his hands to immediately

he put it in the car locker.

“Oh, yes, please Bu.” Back, I stared at the window. After hearing the mother talk. He did not feel disturbed by his presence.

“Sorry yes Ma'am.. so annoy.” He smiled, sitting next to me.

I turned to him again with a smile, “nothing really, Bu.” I threw my eyes out the window again thinking about what I was thinking. My eyes are sleepy. However, it was hard to close it.

The mother sitting next to me, seemed to be busy playing her smartphone. Sometimes he looks at me and then smiles.

I also picked up a cell phone that was in the pocket of a skirt. Plugging the handsead and placing it in both ears. I immediately played the songs in the playlist. Whose songs are any more, if not the songs that

sent by the Traveler.

The song Once Mekel sounded faint in both ears. Temple by temple sounds beautifully. Dealova, yes, that song is one of my favorite songs. I don't know from when I really liked the song sent by the traveler, for the first time.

“Mbak...” the mother next to me holds my knee. Apparently he asked me something before.

I immediately turned off the music. Smile at the mother, “iya, Bu?”

“Kripik Mbak...” he said while poking me a package.

I smiled, “thank you, Mom. Sorry I'm still full.”

Then, the mother placed a packet of banana chips in front of her.

“Banana encryption?” muttered. Then, I remembered something about a banana chip.

I immediately grabbed the phone that was on my lap. Looking for Daffa name, “Daffa, what are you?” a message I sent to Daffa. I wanted to tell her, if today I was on my way home from

Jakarta.

Five minutes passed, the tick looks still gray. I stared at the name for a few minutes.

“If it is love, say. Don't like to hide the taste. Later to be a disease.” The mother sitting next to me smilingly said that to me.

I looked at him with both eyebrows. It looks like the mother is enjoying the banana chips she offered me. I immediately threw a glance out the window.

Maybe she wasn't talking to me. Because I saw he was busy with banana chips and his cell phone.

“Fall in love, what is being loved by someone?” the mother returned a sentence.

I also looked back at him. Now, the mother looks at me.

“Falling in love hurts more Ma'am. Than in love.” Smoke again.

I kept quiet, waiting for his words again.

“If we are loved, it is like we are being fought for by someone. And to cultivate that love. That's the easy thing. Just waiting for time.if we get used to it, surely the love will

grow.” He said, and then he breathed. “But, different if we love someone.” Sentences hanging. I waited for the mother to continue her sentence. However, it seems he deliberately hung it.

“What... are you loving someone? Or even the opposite?” what kind of question is that?

I'm still shaken.

“If viewed from the look on your face. You...” mother's statement next to me hangs again. As if hoping if I would ask about something and immediately tell the incident that was happening to me.

“I want to marry..” I open my voice.

The mother smiled as she nodded her head.

“Hopefully be happy..” said. “Do not choose wrong.” Further.

I cut both eyebrows. Didn't answer his words anymore.

******

You and I have been through a moment of anxiety.

To feel that twilight is no longer ours.

Then, time seems to throw you into an unreachable distance.

Why do we pledge authenticity?

If after, you and I both build bigotry.

Let me thank the wound.

When time answers everything.

Perhaps this is what is called a miracle.

When I can laugh in pain.

I shut my mouth. When the traveler sends a message in the form of a poem written on a tissue.

My trip is still about four hours away. I threw a look out the window of the train. It didn't take me to reply to the traveler's message.

No, not unthinkable. However, I have not found the right words to answer all his messages.

Then, I asked to send a reply message to the traveler.

After a season with a lot to say,

Sometimes silence scares me, honestly.

Even though we've been through a lot of silence.

Maybe I am the one who, yes, can't read the weather.

I spiked an emoticon smiling at the last stanza.

The traveler suddenly went off after reading a reply to a message from me.

I immediately opened an fb account, looking for the name of the Traveler. Both of my eyebrows are linked. View a profile photo of the Traveler's account. “Replace..” gumamku.

My mother next to me, still enjoying the banana chips she had offered me. Sometimes they look at me curiously.

I took a deep breath. Then, exit the Traveler account, whose profile photo has been replaced with a photo of a mizone bottle lined with a white rectangular box.

Soon I wrote a word on my porch. Hope the traveler will read it soon.

It's okay to rain…

Change drought, for example…

I've kept the drizzle you sent in bottles…

It's not why I keep everything…

Even if forever…?

All I have is a memory of yesterday...

But…

If the past never really belonged to me…

Let the season erode the memory…

Until it slowly fades and disappears….

Let us laugh at each other's wounds...