The spoon in my hand had not had time to push a mouthful of rice to my mouth, when suddenly the door to the living room where I lived was knocked from outside. I rushed towards the door, I saw who was coming from between the curtains, I recognized him so I immediately opened the door to my living room. Small talk for a moment, then I say goodbye to wash my hands, even though I also try to provide a drink for the guest who is my best friend.
For about an hour we talked with uncertain topics. But almost certainly around work, home, cellphone, tab, BB and spouse. Of that list, the last part I hate to talk about is the least. Somehow I'm reluctant to talk about that problem. It is true that my age is no longer young, it is also true that almost all of my friends in my age and age are calling "mother", "mama", "mother", "mami", and it's only me who still survives with the call " miss." After about an hour we shared stories and told jokes, which ended up messing up our place of conversation.
My friend, Holy name. Kinathi Suciningtyas, and is familiarly called Suci. Career woman, energetic, outgoing, a bit tomboyish and easy to make friends with. Her hobbies are many, one of which is collecting and reading books. Always when meeting, at least showing off one new book he read, whether borrowed or bought it himself. Also when he came to my house, he brought or rather showed off his books, there were two new ones that were said to be good. I don't care because from the past, I didn't really like books, let alone read them. Because his enthusiasm showed off to me, about 4 books were taken out of the bag and shown to me.
Maybe I forgot, or were in a hurry, when I wanted to go home, or rather left my place of residence (he just got BBM, he said) that one book was left. At that time I found out when I was cleaning the room. I was shocked because there was a book under the table, I realized it was not mine. After almost over, I took the book, I was surprised, I seem to have known books with a similar model. The title of the book is simple, there is written the number 33, always with that number the author gives a title to tell the number of themes in the book. After everything was done, I went into the room, lying down casually. My hair has remained long since I let it loose, I stretched my legs out, one cushy pillow for my head, the pink bolster is the same color as the pillow and my sheets I put on the side for my armrest. I turned on the small fan, there was soft freshness slapping my whole body. Fresh and fun.
Strange, suddenly I was interested in a book. It's weird, and makes me feel like losing myself. Myself who is difficult to be interested in books, even though I can get my undergraduate education. Looks like this book, this Saint's, has extraordinary power. I read the cover. Suddenly, my memory jumped to a time at the beginning of this century. I vaguely remember, but so vague that I find it difficult to link them together into a beautiful picture to enjoy.
Overcast suddenly came without a word. I understand, my country is difficult to predict its existence. It used to be said that there were four seasons but until now only two have. I still hold the book, something strange. It's getting weird. I vaguely remember being awakened, there are images playing on my memory screen. It's getting weird when suddenly, there are beads of clear tears rolling from the ends of my eyelids. I closed my eyes, trying to catch up with the flash of my past that had been left far behind and deliberately left. The past that I have never understood, but recently I regret it.
I still hold this book tightly While still lying down and closing your eyes. I deliberately gave my long hair away, even though it sometimes disturbed my neck. Suddenly too, like I remembered the words, "I like girls with long hair". I'm sure, at that time even though it didn't speak directly to me, it was aimed at me. Silent and calm, solemn and pleasant. And I opened my eyes, I read the cover of the book again. Ahaaaai! I remember. Yes, this book, it is exactly the same title as the book in my house that I have. The book is special to me, very special. Increasingly clear, the flash of time then gave a clearer picture. Yes, this book is exactly the same as the book I never finished reading.
-
That afternoon, the sun was unusually hot. Even though it's not the peak of the dry season. The heat has been felt since the morning. I forgot the date and the year exactly, but I remember the month. The month I was born into this universe. I never really thought that this incident happened. Honestly, I didn't really put my heart on him. Maybe even hate it. Nothing of it caught my eye. Nothing interests me, absolutely nothing. In fact, when a package was given to me, I didn't even flinch. After all, it's a book, an item I really don't like. But I accepted it too, I opened the package when I lived alone. A book whose title is related to what I experienced. I put it on the table near my bed, throwing it away. I'm lazy to read it.
However, even though I am lazy and reluctant to read it, at times I feel very tired and hard going through life, I read it. Not all, because the book consists of certain themes totaling 33. There are those that really interest me, and because of that I read. After that, I left the others.
-
I'm still lying on my bed. I looked outside, at the slightly open window, I saw another bright, blue hovering as if overhanging the earth with a peaceful blue. The cloud that had darkened the earth had gone somewhere. My friend's book that was left behind is still in my arms. Strange, it seems that I am inwardly attached to this book, or rather with the book whose title is the same as the one I'm holding. I got up, headed to the table, I grabbed the cellphone that I put on the table. I'm looking for a name, I pressed the call button. Well, I called mom, I asked you to help me to look in my cupboard, in the middle shelf drawer, under my somewhat formal clothes. I have a habit of sorting and placing in different places for my clothes. For the daily ones themselves, the ones that are formal themselves, the ones who relax themselves and for the nightwear themselves. Mother happened to be at home and went looking for it. I'm restless, hopefully anxious. Suddenly I was afraid of losing the book. I'm afraid you won't find the book.
Again I lay down waiting 15 minutes, that's the time I passed to my mother. I suddenly remember, remember someone. Someone who about two months ago - after a while not seeing each other - met or may I meet. Even though the encounter was only fleeting and didn't come out a word from us, only our hands shook each other. Only our smiles flew at each other. I spent an hour always trying to observe him, because we were facing each other, although sometimes hiding I know he also often cast his eyes on me, because often during that time, several times our eyes met each other.
My reverie soared, wandering into some country. I also listened to mp3 music from next door, a melancholy song from Katon Bagaskara "Cinta Selembut Awan". The neighbor next door is a bit strange, teenage boys but likes old songs, romantic songs that teenagers today shouldn't like. Or was it intentional by Him, to simultaneously add to and become an ornament of my current situation? Mosquito bites brought me to my senses, I was shocked. I looked at the cellphone, there were 2 texts. I opened it, it turned out from mother. A word, that the book is still. I shouted restrained I read a text from my mother. Immediately I ask the mother or father to send it to me tomorrow with an express package so that it will arrive in my hands.
My friend's book that was left behind I reached. I started turning page by page, chapter by chapter. I didn't read it, I just opened it and opened it. My eyes and hands were in my friend's book that was left behind, but my thoughts and thoughts wandered over. Climbing the dream path.
The days after that I spent with soaring hopes, the book soon arrived in my hands. It's strange, in my hand there is a book my friend left behind. The title is the same, the color is the same, the edition after I checked is the same. However strangely, it was not the book that caught my attention. My book is what interests me. I'm counting the days. After three days I received the book. Like a child, when I got home after work, I rushed to the room, I opened the package of the book, I tore it open so it quickly opened and finally I held back the book I had long neglected. By holding this book, it is as if my memories of past events appear again.
I realized, maybe I had the wrong response to something. Misread the language of someone who really paid attention to me, until recently. I was wrong, because I was simply following my emotions, never using my logical reason to think about them. In that case, I won't blame anyone but me. I admit my mistake, I hope there will be clear steps in the days to come. Sometimes there is an intention to take it away. But my senses screamed, I was exhausted. The innocent faces of the mother and the two adorable little boys made me feel selfish.
Without anyone's knowledge, I often opened my FB account, and I saw the cute and adorable faces of the two little boys. Sweet and cute both. Often my subconscious teases me, if I was not mistaken I made a choice, maybe these two cute boys will be a part of my life. Maybe, I will become the mother of those children. However, everything is just a dream, just sheets of memories. I have to brush it off.
