The Sun Becomes a Star

Sun = May

I like watching movies. Every role in the character is always alluring and makes me fantasize. If only my life was as beautiful as the story in one of the movies I watched. But I often also have to accept the fact that the lives of idols are not as beautiful as I imagined. If their real lives weren't beautiful, I wouldn't expect much of my life either. I didn't have a thrilling adventure and met a super cute guy. I also felt that no one would look at me while walking and just greet me with a warm smile that was not made.

But just now, just a moment ago I was right – really realized that I have my own story to play. And I hope you're all ready to accept this reality. In the story of each of us, we are the main character. We ourselves determine our lives will be turned upside down like a roller coaster or even ordinary – just plain. I'm the key holder for my own life story. My life is not ordinary – only and not super boring. My happiness is my responsibility, not someone else's.

Then it's time for you to know more about me. My name is Matahari, Papa calls me May, a little similar to my name and a lot more similar to my birth month when spoken in English. If you think my name's weird, you're not the first person to think so. Just take it easy. At least I once thought my name was weird too. I've seen on the History Channel that there was a female spy who lived during the second world war, also called the Sun. She is a double agent who also works as an exotic dancer. I can assure you my father was not inspired by it. Papa said, when I was born, Papa could think of no other name than the Sun. Well that's how it would be. My father gave his name not from his reflection, but because he did not have enough name supplies. Unlike other names that have beautiful meanings with various hopes and prayers, I was named because I had to have a name. That's it. I'm grateful that Papa thinks about the sun, not the tin or the dipper.

After knowing my name I hope you don't think I'm a man even though my hair is never lower than my shoulder. Until now, I still live in the city of Malang and I never intend to leave it. Unless I am twenty years old and I get a good job in Jakarta, I will definitely go there. I'm still second grade SMU. The SMU where I studied was located opposite the Malang city government center. In a place that has a lot of large trees as a CO2 filter during the day.

I have two pairs of shoes for school, a pair of shoes that deserve to be worn for formal – events. Black with a heel of about 3 cm. A mountain sandal and blue flip-flops that I have repeatedly changed the rope. Some of that footwear and shoes I got almost two years ago. If things weren't right – was really sad or I could buy myself new shoes (with my own money I mean), Papa would never give me money to buy new ones.

My dad is the kind of guy who makes his own coffee. Very independent and not dependent on anyone even though millions of – million times he said he would not be able to live without me in this world. He loves me very much. And vice versa I. If only I had been at the end of death, Papa was the person I expected to be by my side.

But right now, Papa is not by my side. Papa's working. Papa is a journalist who likes to go – go. I opened a small fence in front of my house. During the day, my city, which he said was called the cold city, was still hot. I took the key under one of the flower pots in front of the window of the house. The place is right – is really safe. At least all this time we, me and my Papa, never found our house broken into by a thief or a prankster who wanted to know the contents of someone else's house.

I put the key in and I opened the door. I'm now right – is right in my house. One of my favorite places in the world. I call it the world because at least among the other – places I have visited, my home is the most comfortable. If you think the – places I've been to are some amazing places abroad, you're all wrong. Even to go to Jakarta I have to save at least until I am nineteen years old (unless Papa kindly invites me there in one of his duties sometime before I am nineteen) The – places I've been to are school, grandma's house, (i just found out that I had a grandmother about five years ago when I was in first grade of Junior High), home – my friend's house and some camping ground that I often visit with Papa or friends – my school friends besides Bali and Jogja.

If a ceremony or other event involves a line-up, I'm always put in the back. The high one behind, said the Master. Yes already, I just follow. Nice also behind because I can chat to and fro the same guys – guys in class who have absolutely no hobby to talk about others. My shoe size is 40. My skin is light brown and not yellow or shining white. Most like me to wear shorts and sleeveless t-shirts enjoy the gentle breeze hitting my face when I’roli’ saw – city state with my bike. Although I have no weight problems and don't think about it very often, like other – girls, I also feel that being overweight is also a scary thing. I was so scared that I had nightmares.

In my dream I want to ride a rickshaw somewhere. Every time I approached the rickshaw brother, it must have been the rickshaw brother refused. After being rejected several times, there was also I met a rickshaw brother who wanted to take me. When I wanted to sit in his chair, uh it turns out my ass didn't fit in his chair enough for those two people. My body turned out to be swollen not because of the magnitude. It's only fitting that brother – brother rickshaw previously rejected me. Then arrived – arrived I woke up from my sleep, saw a short clock hand pointing at the number two, checking my hand. Groped my – waist palpations and I am very grateful that my body is still in normal size.

I have a – small turtle as big as a round biscuit that I put in an aquarium filled with sand without water made of circular glass in my room. Some of my friends scrambled to give the little turtle – a name when I first bought it. Some would like to call him Michelangelo, Leonardo, (the first two must have been inspired by the Ninja Turtles) Julius, Brutus (in my opinion the name is more suitable for dogs) and the last Imelda (this is Trisakti's suggestion, Brutus (in my opinion the name is more suitable for dogs), one of my best friends). This last one is what I chose to be the name of my little turtle –.

I love reading and cycling. My love of reading is probably the legacy of Papa working in one of the major publications in Surabaya. My bike is not the latest model, but it never makes me shy in front of my – friends. Every birthday, I wish Papa would give me a bike present. But Papa said that I got a motorbike prize when I went to college. I'm resigned.

The one place I like to go to on my bike is one of the high areas in the city of Malang, to the east. If you go there, you will definitely find a place that has a view wide enough to see the entire city of Malang. There, you will see that actually the city of Malang is like a bowl. The basin at the base of the bowl is a dense city with houses, streets and shophouses, and the wall of the bowl is the mountain – mountains that surround it. I don't know how your imagination came to be. But I hope it's all beautiful.

I don't know my Mama at all or in other words if I don't have a Mama is not a painful fact for me. One thing that kept me going all this time was the fact that I was born from a woman's womb, not from a stone. I never knew my mother's face. I only knew him from a small piece of photography that Papa had stored in one of his purse pockets. A black and white photo, similar to the one you had in your diploma, measures 3 x 4. The picture is blurred and almost yellowed. Edge – edge like carved. I think she's very pretty. I hope she's tall and slim and I hope she's gentle. I asked Papa about my mom, but he just said, 'But,

“What Papa didn't give you enough affection May ?” Papa's eyes always look sad when I ask about Mama.

“No Pa. I just feel like I want to know. All the girls in this country know their Mama except me” I say although I know many girls in this country who do not know their mama.

“Unless Papa can not meet your needs, then Papa will tell you all about your Mama,” from sad eyes, Papa's eyes turn to be firm. Not a dictator like some world leaders, but enough to silence my mouth for weeks or months. I might hang on until I get bored and feel pointless. Even now it's actually useless except to satisfy my curiosity. Sometimes I'm not satisfied with Papa's answer and chase him with the question, “Papa didn't take me from the orphanage isn't it ?”

“Never again do such words come out of your mouth May.”

“If Papa doesn't want such a word out of my mouth, just tell me about Mama”

“If you're an adult May ..”

“Sixteen years is not enough Papa?” and Papa looked at me with a guilty feeling that made me pity and regret for saying it all to him. But anyway, I deserve an answer, right?

“Papa can only say that you were born out of May's love. Mom and Dad waiting – waiting for your birth. You are the child we are waiting for. Also keep it in mind, Papa never took you from the Orphanage. Keep such thoughts out of your mind”

I am even more sorry. Papa is the closest person to me and I often hurt him. But curiosity often overcomes guilt. It's okay – what, I'll take responsibility.

“Papa knows May. Sometimes – sometimes Papa thinks it's not because of May. It's because of Papa himself. Just be patient in a minute. Papa will tell May” and we always hug in such situations. Usually Papa would then treat me to ice cream and fruit salad at Confetti, our favorite ice cream and salad shop. He'll take me away on his big motorcycle. But I wouldn't use a question about my Mom to Papa if I was right – really wanted to go eat at Confetti.

I thought enough was enough to tell you about me because as time passes, you will know me.

Entering the house of hot air gradually disappeared although not entirely. I closed the door and headed straight to my room.

“Hallo Imelda!!” Imelda's eyes blinked – blinking as if Papa had woken up. “You caught a mosquito for you to eat this morning ?” Imelda still blinks – blinks by sticking her head out. Maybe he said “I want to go – way!”

“Oh .. sorry. You must be bored all day in the aquarium well.” I put Imelda on the floor so I can walk – streets in a wider place. His tail is out. That's how it behaves when you're happy.

“There are mosquitoes !!!!” Imelda if you see mosquitoes exactly like if I see fried chicken (sad I have to throw the skin that must be fried very crisp). He must have been running at the maximum speed he had. But this time, not to mention that he had time to walk, the mosquito he was aiming for floated.

“Haha .. hence don't be fat – fat. So can't run khan ? I'll take rice for a while.” I said to Imelda whose eyes looked sad.

“What's – What. No mosquitoes, no rice so,” Imelda said in her heart. I went to the kitchen to open the hood of saji. There was no rice in the place of rice. I opened the magic jar, it was clean. So I quickly – quickly go back to the room to tell Imelda. “Imelda. I know you must be hungry. I'm hungry too. So our position is the same. But you must understand that our rice is now gone. Wait at most an hour. Must be warm rice I sent for you,” I said while pointing – show my right index finger and my left hand right next to my waist. Papa says I'm like a teapot then.

“Yah. No choice B, C, or D khan ?” Imelda raised her head. “That was option A. But I also still have E.”

“Please tell me .. “

“Good by the way dong ..”

“May sweet. What are the options of E?”

“Pray in your heart so that mosquitoes happily enter your mouth ..”

“Wah, if that's like expecting the moon to fall. But there is no harm in also trying ..”

“Have you finished speaking Imelda ? The longer we talk, the longer you have to wait for the rice to ripen.”

“OK boss,” Imelda lower her head and back walk – way explore my room. I ran – run to the kitchen. Take the rice, wash it thoroughly and put it in a rice cooker. Not afdol if I only eat with rice, I open the fridge. I took out eggs, sausages and broccoli. I'll prepare all the seasonings. Salt! Where's salt? How is there no salt ? This is not the first time the house has been lacking salt. “Imelda ! Can't you buy me some salt at the stall next door?” I shouted from the kitchen hoping that Imelda could hear it.

“Can't. I khan kura – kura !” His voice sounded annoyed. “There is no rice ... told to buy salt again ..” Imelda still continues to grumble. Can't count on Imelda I ran straight to the stall across the house.

“Garam ma'am ..” Aunt Claudia, who owns the shop, take my money and give me the salt I want without making a sound. As if – would I this kura – kura. Imelda I just talked to – talk. If I wasn't very busy, I wouldn't want to buy here because it's always a bonus eye gaze that I never liked always get.

“Thank you,” I said while running. Still don't talk Aunt Claudia fast – quick grab tissue, start to wipe her hands and the money I give you until clean. It's like you wash dishes and there's a fat stain there……

I worked more than an hour in the kitchen. Cooking rice and side dishes, washing the furniture I was wearing and I arrived at the part I liked the most. Eat up!

“Please eat Imelda ..” I put rice and side dishes into my mouth. Imelda chewed on the rice I gave her and ate it voraciously. After eating I felt my body was very tired. I miss my bed. I want to sleep. There was no need to wait two hours after eating to sleep like I had read in one of the women's magazines because I was so tired. I just want to rest. With calm ... without any confusion ... even from Imelda ... I want to take a nap …

Good afternoon nap, Sun …