He's the one I called DAD

(Tulisan ala-ala, nemu di laptop lama)

Once, I thought about which day would be the best day of my life I just couldn’t decide it at all. It was hard to decide because I thought I didn’t have one. But then I just remembered him, my Dad.

I was not a type of a girl who always made her Dad proud. I was not that smart that I would always be in the top one in my class, not two either. I was much lucky when I could be in big 5 or even 10.  

I remembered he used to take me to my school every morning, but we didn’t talk too much. I just didn’t know how to talk when I was with him. Like no idea at all, I couldn’t even spell a word just about my school day.

Then I moved to another city when I went to Senior High, Mom wanted me to be in a boarding  school, which made me rarely see him. Time flew and I was in college after all. I knew that I was not coming from rich family but it made me become an independent girl. I used to work hard to get the scholarship every year and found some part time jobs to pay my rent house.

Daddy came to see me once a month and sent me allowance every month but I knew it never met my needs well enough, but I never told him. I knew he had been working hard for this family. I swear Mom and Dad would deadly trying to fulfill our needs. I just couldn’t imagine that he, my Dad, always had that proud about his kids in his heart.

In my graduation day, Mom and Dad arrived in my college town, stood in from of the hall gate with their best dress and they were just like the most beautiful couple that I had ever seen in my entire life. Mom held my hand, looked me in the eyes and smile never gone from her face, you knew how a mother, right? She just easily cried with the tears streaming down her face but Dad, he just stood behind Mom, looked around, hiding his feeling like he always used to. Then I saw it, like a crystal on the tip of his eye, he crie.d Ah, Daddy!  😢

Rumah Teruntuk Asa

Asa laluku bertandang ke rumah baru,

Sempat menjenguk tempat berdiam terdahulu, tapi tak lagi berpenghuni. Hanya kisi-kisi jendela berdebu, serbuk kopi di cangkir kita malam lalu dan kusam dinding kayu bekas bingkai piguramu, tak lagi disitu. Sebab semua kisah butuh pemeran, sedang kita sudah tak lagi dalam babak yang sama. Lalu berlalu..

Kusisir pula halaman depannya, rimbun wangi rumput, sesekali di gelitik mekar portulaca tak tahu siapa menanam, rona kelamnya pun tak terelakan, timbul tenggelam dalam tarian angin di arak serbuk dandelion berterbangan, benar adanya, tak tahu lagi pada siapa ia berpunya.

Hingga sudahlah bagiku, tutup pintu, biar kenang apapun itu lebur seiring gerus waktu..

Kurengkuh segenggam harap yang dulu sempat ku titipkan padamu, tak sempurna kurenggut kembali, sebab kau keburu pergi, sedang aku belum siap, berkata-katapun luput kulakukan. Dan langkah enggan yang dulu dalam kiraku tak akan beranjak sedikit jauh dari jerat masa lalu, sudah sejauh ini pula derapnya, sejauh ini pula asa itu kubawa..

Asa laluku bertandang kerumah baru..

Kueratkan genggamku, agar tak lagi ada yang hilang atau lenyap ditelan penantianku..
Mulai kusapa, ku eja nama, sedikit tawa, sedikit menerima..

Namun entah,
ada yang membebani dalam kepal tanganku, seperti kesepakatan gagal yang otak dan hati ciptakan hingga perlahan, waktu mencoba menjelaskan, ini saatnya melepas genggaman. Genggaman eratku padamu, asa lalu. Cukup membebani, membatasi, hingga penat hati.

Pada langkahku yang kesekian, genggam itupun kulepaskan, membiarkannya tergeletak jatuh di tanah pijakan. Dan satu-satunya yang terang dalam pahamku, langkah yang telah kujejal ini belum lagi tiba di ujung pemcapaianya. Sebab beban tak bijak jikalau dipikul terlalu lama, sebab sudah seharusnya asa lalupun tertinggal di rumah sebelumnya.

Entah jadi penanda, sebagai yang berjalan ini pernah jua menulis kata tentang mekar portulacanya..
Entah sebagai lagu senja perihal tenggelam mentarinya..
Entah..
Hanya sebaiknya ia tetap tinggal..

Karena rumah baru yang belum berpenghuni ini, sungguh sudah sedemikian lama barangkali mendamba empunya. Sebab jendelanya lebar terbuka, damai angin menyegarkannya, adukan kopi belum lagi terseduh, rapi tersusun di meja, serta bingkai pigura belum lagi terisi wajah siapa..

Sebab babak lama yang sudah lapuk kertasnya, tidak lagi layak dibuka, tidak lagi bijak di kotori kisah yang sama..

Sebab sebagai tempat berpulangnya sudah baru adanya, bijak jika demikian pula asanya..

Asa baruku pada akhirnya, bersua rumahnya..


Jakarta, 2016