Some minutes ago I cried. My eyes were a bit watery. I heard a child was crying, my neighbor. My room is next to my neighbor’s living room. They are separated with just one meter of tiny path so that sometimes I could overhear any form of sound from my neighbor’s living room, including the sounds of a crying child.
That child is Wira. He is maybe around three or four years, I don’t know exactly. But one thing for sure, he is at the age where children are able to talk clearly. But he is not able to do so. Nobody would understand what he is saying, even his parents. So some minutes ago he was crying to his father. It seemed he was left behind with his friends. There are some children in my neighborhood but they are commonly older than him. As he cried to his father, he talked. He talked much, so much, but not even a single word was clear. I wished I knew what he cried about but I couldn’t. His father did not say a word. He kept listening to him and once in a while he asked him to stop. But he was still crying. Then his brother came, asking him to play together. He stopped crying. I heard his brother teach him to learn to utter some words, but it did not work. Yet, they kept on trying.
What made me my eyes watery was the fact I knew these children have been living without their mother for almost a month. I do not know exactly the reason why their mother left the house. She did not tell anyone in this neighborhood, except her family of course, when she left. But as far as I know, she left for good sake, for her family. This makes me realize that being a mother is the greatest occupation ever. When I have my own family in the future, I should find a side job that does not disrupt my main job as a mother, whatever circumstances I might face in the future. And it also makes me think from time to time how lovely and pure love is. Love from an elder brother to his younger brother for instance. The way Arya by his own takes over some of his mother job to take care of his younger brother, Wira, is just beautiful and warming at the same time. It is just wonderful to hear this kind of bond. A family bond.
I believe love is not just a feeling. It is a language.
While I’m typing this, I am reflecting upon my life. I have a family who always accompanies me. I have a father who is always worry about my eating habbits, a mother who always reminds me to remember the owner of the world, and two brothers who always cheer me with their cheesy and silly pranks. So what else can I ask more than this? Even though the words “I love you” never came out from their mouth, deep down I know they do love me back.
It sounds perfect, but it is not. It is far from the word “perfect”. They are not perfect. They have flaws. They just complete me, my life.
My intention writing this post is that if one day I have a bad day, feeling down and insecure, I should revisit this page, reread this post to remind me that there are many things to be grateful for. To remind me that there are many little things in life that I barely see their beauty. To remind me that whenever I feel the world seems to refuse me, I still have my own sun who always devotes its energy to me. To remind me that I am blessed.
Yes, I feel blessed.