The Pole of Love

Waiting for Miracles

New York, June 1999 ...

There is no reason to leave NYC as the summer progresses. Because this is the best time in New York Cify, some of New York's most popular attractions provide an endless list of things to do outside from rooftop movies and free dance parties to music festivals.

While emptying the last row of bookshelves that were originally neatly arranged and large around the room that seemed ordinary. The same question the past week seemed to be spinning in his head and just kept that question as if it was a ghost floating in his mind: I was only nineteen years old, but why do I feel so old and tired of living a life that seems to spin around this? Wh why?

The door behind his back creaked very slowly and hardly even made a sound but Amza who had felt it stopped his original activity and turned around.

Seemed in the doorway Oma who was smiling gently towards him.

"Amza, don't burden your luggage too much, let Oma send all your books to Jakarta."

Amza smiled thinly, he stopped cleaning the books earlier, Amza's heart felt disturbed. Oma said so as if she would never return to this house.

Amza understands and is aware that the present moment will be inevitable. Only a miracle can undo it back to Indonesia. For years Amza hoped and prayed that the miracle he had been waiting for would come but what became his fantasy never existed, and the miracle never came to greet him.

There are only occasional calls from Mama who praise the value of her value that often sent, Omanya, no additional remarks suggested he could stay much longer in New York and live with Omanya, who struggles to stay alive on his own.

The magic that Amza has has expired. It's only seven years. His parents had a big fight when he decided to live with the Oma, the father did not agree if the child was released to the land of people. Though Amza does not feel in the land of people. Is not in this city also his mother was raised and became a writer, until finally she went to Indonesia and stopped being a writer? Amza doesn't know exactly what happened.

How could the talent of the mother who was so good at stringing words and poems that flowed in her blood, just want to soak up what they inherited?

Papa was worried that New York would bring an artist to life in his son. Why are you afraid? Amza asked. Because your brain is too smart to be a writer, replied his father, who immediately stopped his next question.

Amzapun asked, should he sabotage his own values so that his parents, especially the father, are wrong? But before that happened Papa and Mama agreed that he was allowed to attend school in New York for seven years, only seven years. Since he set foot in the sixth grade he was finally able to be with the Oma, only seven years.

Two thousand five hundred and fifty-five days passed and Amza felt that seven years was as short as the blink of an eye.

"Maybe this is all you're supposed to bring, son." Oma handed me two books on UMPTN training.

"Yes, Oma." Amza welcomed the two thick books and planned to leave them under the bed when she came out.

"Oma will wait for you at the dinner table, son." The woman tidied up her blouse that looked to be shrieking and tightened her hairpin that was white but still thick.

"Oma be cooking?"

"According to your order, son, Oma will never forget your favorite food. Son, Oma always keeps a promise."

One night in the winter and the weather was very cold, the heating of their room was broken. Oma held Amza in a thick blanket together. As if a friend who took care of each other and on that night also Oma had promised if she would not cry when Amza had to go home to Jakarta, he said, and Amza also promised in the arms that the warmth is still felt today, and without Amza knows how difficult it is to keep that promise.

Amza looked at her Omanya who was walking towards the dining table. The corner of his lips was always smiling so it gave the woman a friendly impression. But a clear liquid appeared to be inundated in the corner of his eye. It quickly saw Oma rubbing it and the old woman's nose looked reddened making Amza increasingly feel unsettled.

Amza closed the room door, before long it seemed that all the rooms he had lived in for the past seven years seemed to run away. Many times Amza blinked his eyes but the water in his fertilizer as if he did not want to stop.

Jakarta, June 1999 ...

The petite-bodied girl was unceasingly prancing, kicking and occasionally raising her hands up and leaping through the air around her. Even though his activities at that time were just tidying up the book.

But in order to better interpret the time he combined it with dancing and going back and forth like a person who had just gone crazy.

The earphones that echo the sound of music from the era of '80 was also the collection of music of the brother. He had just graduated High School a few weeks ago, but his musical taste was the same as that of a nineteen-year-old High School kid. Everyone often says that the name Aylin is just up-to-date, but in his out-of-date.

Aylin who was in the dwarf even funny and strangely tend to be proud of the word, Aylin always insisted that the music '80 was amazingly cool and genius.

Aylin fanned out a book, peeking at it. He tried hard in order that he did not see his reflection and only the prowess of himself that looks like a shadow that continues to go back and forth incessantly. And when he accidentally stares at his reflection in front of the mirror, he will spin around and say. Jiah is so ugly.

From outside his younger sister Ainun could be heard knocking on the door, after a while of not getting any results, finally the impatient Ainun started banging.

"Wei! Aylin's on the phone!" There was a mature voice behind Ainun as soon as Ainun was shocked.

"Sir Aylin!" Shouted Ainun himself putting emphasis on the word Kak, because his older sister that one does not deserve the title as an older brother.

Seriate...