Page 356: The Reason Why

And that morning, you held her tight, kept telling her that it’s okay. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. She sobbed, she peed herself. Her diaper was drenched. She said she couldn’t hold it and it’s just happened when she was still asleep. “I know. I know. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll clean it. Let’s take a shower and change your diaper,” you said.

And as you watched her eating her breakfast, you realized that she has changed. Some part of you knew before that, but other part refused to believe that she has changed that much. That morning, it was the first morning you accepted the fact that the strong independent woman who raised you has been stressed out for years because of her illness and it has changed her. That woman who used to be so frikkin excellent at math, who was like a walking calculator has lost her ability to count that fast. That the woman who used to have remarkable memory, has changed into someone who forgot names and details.

You remembered the fights you had with her when you’re a teenager. You’ve always been the rebellious one, the one who broke her rules. You used to argue a lot with her, and now, she looks like she has no will to share stories and her thoughts. You missed arguing with her. You missed talking about books you just read. You know that although you and her had so many different ways of seeing things, she was the one who introduced you to the joy of reading books.

And you went to the other room because you didn’t want her to see your tears. Because you remembered that once, when everything was still alright, she said that although you’re one of the toughest “enemies” she's ever had, you’re also the evidence that she has raised a tough woman who can take care of herself and can stand up for what she believes in.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks and left the room. You looked cheerful when you told her about your dream last night, the ritual you two always enjoy. And she analyzed it using her knowledge she got from Primbon. And you two laughed. You looked cheerful. You tried. Although you can tell from her face that she knew you just cried. But you tried to look cheerful anyway. Because you wanted her to see that you are tough, and she made you that way. She’s the reason why. The reason why.

Page 273: Comforting You

What I really wish right now is that those medications and therapy can give you a little comfort, dear mother. Because sometimes I feel that I can’t provide that, no matter how many jokes and hugs and kisses I've given you. I hate the glint of fear I saw in your eyes yesterday when we were talking about your condition. I wish I could erase it or at least alleviate it just by snapping my fingers and a single “abracadabra”. That would be the best gift ever, right? Right.

But I know I can't. And i hate that. 

I. Hate.That.

But I know you're a fighter because you taught me how to be one.

Now it’s my turn to help you remember those lessons, I guess. 

Page 47: Happiness Trigger #2: Books

How my parents told me about my childhood always reminds me ‘bout the greatest gift from them: efforts to raise me. Raising a child isn’t just about feed them with nutritious foods. Or give them cool toys. It’s more. How you teach them about responsibility, moral, kindness, and stuff. I guess that’s why my mom used to said, “You won’t understand until you becoming a parent” each time we argued about her rules (and why sometimes I broke it :p ).

Once, my mom said, she kinda raised me in library. Haha. It was a nice breezy Sunday morning when she found me sitting near a window in our dining room, read a book. Like always, she would ask about the content, how many books I bought that month, and which one’s my favorite (if I bought more than one).

“Do you remember when I used to take you to my office and leave you with books, papers and a pen for hours, when you’re kid?” she asked. And I nod. My mom is a librarian in a Medicine Faculty, University of Indonesia. Every year, me and my big sister spent couple of days during school holiday in her office. She’d leave us with books, papers, pen and crayon; so she could work peacefully. She told us to talk in low voice, while whispering’s better, and silence would be the best choice. *and it was very, very difficult job for us :D

After office hours, she’d take us to Senen or Gramedia Matraman to bought books and Album Donal Bebek (ADK). Sometimes we chose second-hand ADK because it’s cheaper. Hehe. I still remember the price, Rp.300 each. :)

My mom was quite hard and strict about our education. For instance:
1.    She wouldn’t let me and my sister have cedal-tounge (suffer from speech defect characterized by pronunciation of ”R“ as a tap or as “L”). I remember the lesson she used to give when we were little. One hour, every Sunday, each of us would sit in front of her and she’d say some words containing “R” and we have to say it correctly.
2.    When we’re doing our homework, we’re not allowed to ask her, or my father, OR ANY OTHER HUMAN BEING for the answer before we read all the material in the text book and we were sure it’s not written there. If we’d come to her to ask, and she checked our text book, and found the answers printed there, she gave us the “have-I-told-you-to-seek-it-first-dar-ling-?!” look in a quite intimidating manner. :p
3.    She wanted us to fluently read before starting our education at elementary school. And she was very proud when she knew we didn’t use spelling method in class like other kids in first grade.

But her rules also made me found one of my biggest passions: books. According to my mom, during my second year in Kindergarten, I’ve spent 3 months at home, and the rest at Kindergarten library. Second year? Yes, second! So here’s the story. I was born in January 1985 and almost six years old when the school year for the first grade begun. But somehow the desired private school which my mom had chose for me, didn’t accept me, because I haven’t reached 6.

I already read fluently when I was 5. And I was easily-getting-bored kind of kid. I was so happy imagining myself going to be first grade student. Because it means that I’ll have more books to read. So when I couldn’t start my days as an elementary school student, I was pissed and sad. To cheer me up, my mom brought me books and toys, and registered me at the same kindergarten. At first day, I told my mom, “I’d rather stay at home. They gave me the same lesson I had last year. It’s boring.”

Three months stayed at home wasn’t that bad. Errr, still boring, tho. Hahaha. Until principal’s wife/ teacher, Mrs. Maryatin, came to visit and told me that kindergarten library had completely renovated and I should take a look at it. She also told me about lotsa new books, and I can read all of them every day without obligation to attend class! Just read whatever I want in that library. And of course, I took that offer. :D

During college, I met friends with same interest in books. Even planned dreamed, to make a book store and library next to my friend tetta’s future coffee shop. :))

I wish one day I’ll write my own book and see it in book stores, or meet my favorite authors like; Gaarder, Palahniuk, Gaiman, Burton, Coelho, DiCamillo, Connolly, Pullman, etc. Orrrr, at least (at least???) I can have a cozy library in my future home. I searched some references *sounds too early and delusional, I know*, and found these.

images courtesy: here, here, and here

It’s lovely, isn’t it?

Meanwhile, I have to be satisfied with this. :D

Do you like to sniff books? Well, I do.

:)