To You, A Boy who was Born to be A Basket Ball Player and A Bank Director

I grow as the only child in my family. There was someone I called brother, but it was ago. Though it was only a short time in my life, I was so happy at that time.

For a time being, I had someone with whom I could jabber about anything in the night when my mom and dad had to go somewhere.

For a time being, I had a counterpart, a partner in crime in my house.

For a time being, I had someone to whom I could yell due to not so important reasons such as losing a pencil.

For a time being, I had someone to whom I could ask for favors such as drive me to school, buy me ice cream, teach me playing basket ball.

For a time being, I had someone who always gave ridiculous excuses for so many thing.

But it was ago. Now, he’s no longer here.

If only you read this writing (I know it’s impossible unless heaven has access to the  Internet) I want to tell  you that now your room is my room. Right after you left for your life afterlife, I moved to your room. It’s nice to be here. I feel as if you’re here. It feels like I can talk to you anytime I want, just like we used to be. Though I am not using either your bed or wardrobe, I am still using your rulers. I still keep the ruler you gave to me and I promise you that I won’t lose it.

People say that time will always heal everything, but I don’t think so. There are several things which time can’t do anything about. One of those things is a sense of missing. We—I, mom, and dad— always miss you. Mom’s always going misty-eyed whenever we talk about you, whenever someone, even unintentionally, is saying your name.

I don’t know whether you already know about this or not, but I’ll just tell you that the basket ball court where you used to play every afternoon is now a housing area. There is no longer a basket ball court in front of our house. I was so disappointed for losing a place which remains me about you, but what can I do? I can do nothing. My saving is not that much that make it possible for me to buy the land.

I’m sorry for being so spoiled. I’m sorry for never addressing you properly with ‘mas’ before  your name. I’m so sorry for hiding Bobo until the next edition is delivered. You know, Bobo is now pricy for a magazine.

Time moves pretty fast. It’s been a windu after you left me, mom, and dad. By all means, I miss you. I’ve grown up as the only child for these last eight years, yet I don’t know whether I have made mom and dad proud or not.

If only you’re here, I’ll buy you durian and cempedak as much as you want although I hate the smell. But ya... I know you are not here... I wish we live in the same neighbourhood in our life afterlife... I wish my wish will be granted... Amin.

Inside Out

In Finding Forrester, William Forrester said “In some cultures, it is considered as a good luck to wear something inside out” when Jamal asked him why he was wearing his socks inside out. Actually, it's because he felt uncomfortable with the socks’ sewing design which has the hed inside, it hurt his feets. So, he worn his socks inside out.

I acknowledge William Forrester’ style in wearing his socks. I think that is the comfortable way in wearing socks. Once, when I was in kindergarten, I found that wearing socks inside out was comfortable, but as my mom said I should not do that, I did not do that. Anyway, it is another story now. I am on my own responsibility to decide what to wear and how to wear. Then, I am used to wearing my socks inside out.

See? Sometime, we need to break the rules. A wise man knows when to break the rules.