What is Fate?

Father was still sitting on the bench in front of the porch, his face looking up into the clouds. Like trying to ask the inhabitants of the sky, just to find out where justice is. It's been a day when you have been a living statue there without a word coming out of his mouth. His eyes were gloomy as if begging someone.

It's been a week that he has been doing this often. There was a feeling he was going to leave this house. The justice that he so glorified had disappeared by nature. Disappeared without a trace leaving us both. Justice is indeed the perfect friend for both of us. However, father's condition has changed a lot when that justice is gone. His behavior was not normal like the father I knew before. Like before, where when our family life was sufficient. And it was all before my mother left us both.

Luckily we are still a place to take shelter at this point. A small house with the results obtained from the remnants of your past struggles, a place where the common people have always been loyal to protect us from the heat and rain. In this house, I also put hope for my paintings which will become a field of livelihood for me and my father. On top of my last painting, I made today. I painted the scattering of the fallen leaves. Like floating around like the contents of my mind right now.

Back then our family was above the life that most people who loved the world dreamed about. As soon as you feel it turns out that life is felt for a while, without realizing that time flies so fast. We still don't realize that the happiness in this world is in our own family. Not on things that are based on material alone. In reality, it is all pleasure that can only last for a moment.

Now the habit of my father who likes to prepare breakfast after he went bankrupt from his previous business is one of the pleasures I can keep up to now. Even though it's just scrambled eggs, it contains messy sliced ​​green onions and a sprinkling of sweet soy sauce. What I know is that you don't have much money now to be able to cook something delicious, but he still takes the time to cook scrambled eggs, making it a valuable gift every morning.

Sometimes the habit of the father, who always cooks eggs, is not like a long-lived pine tree. The eggs will certainly run out. Meanwhile, the current condition of my father is still in a haggard condition looking for a job since he left two things that he loved so much, namely his business and his beloved wife. One fact that Mother will never come back. The word that came out of his mouth before he went somewhere left us.

Father can not just accept the situation, and until it becomes what it is today. His psyche, as well as his human thoughts, had been devoured by despair. Will I be like him too? and of course, I will continue to try to heal before the rest of the spirit in the room of my tenacity decreases or disappears. I have to find the justice that I desire.

It was approaching dusk when the tree also started waving its stalks and leaves to bid farewell to the sun. The faint sound of birdsong was also heard. Accompanied by the cheers of people who are busy racing against the clock. That gallery again. Today I'm a little lazy just to pass in front of the gallery. He can laugh at me if the owner finds out that I am still peddling one of my paintings that he actually likes.

But it turns out that maybe it's just today I need it more. Because of the need that I need with you so as not to turn into a mute. I saw the owner was busy sitting inside. I, who was still standing there, slowly tried to get inside. I don't know what words to say so that I can offer my painting again after my previous refusal.

I will immediately follow in my footsteps. But the words didn't just disappear from my mind at this time. During the struggle, my father and I hoped to find the word happiness, and I still remember my answer. Apparently, it is true that the sacrifice was not as easy as imagined. Moreover, sacrifices to find a little happiness in everyday life. Now I am increasingly aware, that no matter how difficult the tests we face if we can sincerely accept them we just want to get the pleasure of God and rest assured that it will all be easy.

I don't care more about the price of my painting, even though my painting is not as valuable as it used to be. I ignored the strange looks of people who saw me especially towards my feet. I don't care about their judgment. Although a hint of embarrassment appeared in my mind, I had to brush it off immediately. This is a form of struggle. My inner words broke.

I will go home soon after I get what I'm looking for. Maybe tonight is an ordinary night according to my father, but not so in my opinion. Tonight is a truly extraordinary night. Because maybe without tonight, I would just be complaining more and more about various kinds of things. Now I believe more and more, all that feels difficult is just a test. A testing phase to determine the extent of my capacity to endure. How high do I put God's position in my heart? I am very grateful because without realizing it, my father is at least one of my family who still exists today, and without realizing it, you have made me aware of the importance of sacrifice.

But maybe this is my destiny. When I returned to the house where Father and I used to take refuge from natural conditions. A house that doesn't need to be built. A gift from God with His power as wide as the ocean. It is here that I light the brush of life united with other happiness while singing a song of thanks to the Creator.

Instantly I sat down into the lap of the ground which I unwittingly had soaked by a pool of tears. The coldness of this ground is as if neglected by my skin which has changed its function to the taste of the soul's fire. Even the heavy rain that falls is not enough to cool this body. Because the image of the father waiting at home immediately calmed the heat.

I have been waiting for his figure to come home for days, which is getting lost until now. Unable to say, you have not yet returned to this house. And so do I, who is still sitting on this bad chair. While laughing loudly enjoying the performance of an opera between the wind and the rain.