Bab 1: Keseimbangan yang Hilang Aisha, seorang arsitek muda berbakat di Bandar Lampung, hidup dalam dunia yang terstruktur dan terukur. Kehidupannya adalah perpaduan sempurna antara pekerjaan, desain yang rumit, dan kesempurnaan yang ia tuntut dari dirinya sendiri. Namun, di balik kesempurnaan itu tersimpan kekosongan. Ia merasa hidupnya seperti bangunan tanpa pondasi yang kokoh, selalu mengancam untuk runtuh. Hubungannya dengan kekasihnya, Dimas, seorang dokter yang selalu sibuk, semakin renggang. Keseimbangan dalam hidupnya hilang. Di tengah kesibukannya, Aisha bertemu dengan seorang seniman keramik, Bayu. Bayu adalah kebalikan dari Aisha. Ia hidup sederhana, penuh warna, dan percaya pada aliran kehidupan yang alami. Karya-karyanya, vas-vas keramik yang unik dan penuh ekspresi, mencerminkan jiwa seninya yang bebas. Pertemuan mereka terjadi di sebuah pameran seni lokal, dan sejak saat itu, hidup Aish...
Palm Trees, a Little Girl, and All Things Memorable
“That’s it, Gammy! I’m not walking anymore!” The tiredness and irritation in Amaya’s voice only made this adventure better. Whenever she gets annoyed, her face flushes with child-like innocence, which I love looking at. It reminds me of the days she was a teeny tiny baby, who would fit into my arms. With her, I feel like a child myself, a feeling so imperative for an old lady!
I laughed and continued walking on the graveled path. “Not funny, gammy!”
“Trust me, after all this is done, you will find this hilarious!”
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” The sarcasm in her voice wasn’t lost on me, however, I had better things planned for the day. I had been looking forward to this morning since forever. In fact, the only reason a 30-year old me dug up that spot was to enjoy THIS particular day. As if to reverberate everything I was thinking about, the rain decided to accompany us on our journey.
The thunderous skies opened up a bunch of memories from the first time I was here on this journey, with Amaya’s Gran-pop. And although it may sound cheesy, it only feels like yesterday, that we were on this journey. Nothing about the gravel-laden path had changed. Over the years, though, a few vacation homes emerged among the palm greens, the place where the path ended. This was our favorite place. Along the coast, where the cool water meets the hot sand, stood a bunch of palm trees, each trying to appear taller than the other. We would play a game- me and my late husband- What do the trees talk about? You see, one of the joys of being with someone who loves you immensely is the ability to let go and be as stupid as possible. As the years pass by, all those so-called “stupid” antics become fond memories. I, for one, am so glad that we were able to make a zillion of such memories. When one leaves you behind all alone, you have nothing but the memories to cling to.
It was one such pursuit of making a cherish-able memory when Chris and I came across a little girl sitting by the crossroads, and pouring her heart out. For some reason, her tears bothered me tremendously.
“Looks like the little munchkin is lost!”
“Let’s go and find out.” Saying so, Chris held my hand and we walked towards her with a hope that we might be of some help to the poor creature.
As we approached her, I noticed the teddy bear she was clutching with a life-threatening force. The closer we got, the more I could see the fear mixed with anguish on her face. The endless tears streaming down her face would have been enough to melt the hardest metal on earth. Her wide deer-eyes reminded me of my own when I was an 8-year old myself. Something within me stirred a million emotions.
“Are you okay, sweet pea?” My dear husband was the gentlest with children. This was actually one of the many things that I loved about him. When the entire race was hell-bent on portraying men as rough and tough, my man decided to embrace the “softer” version of himself. Expressing emotions was never a problem for him. His emotions were extremely colorful- from bright, sunny to dark and dull, the whole range. Believe me, it’s hard to find someone like him- even today. Maybe it was the age gap, but his maturity levels never failed to amaze me.
“N-o-o! I-can’t find—"
“You lost, honey? Do you want some water?” I tried to calm the girl. “What’s your name?”
“S-S-S-Sarah.”
“Okay, Sarah, are your parents lost?” Had I been a passer-by, I would have pegged Chris as the little Sarah’s dad. So much compassion!
Sarah looked at her tear-soaked bear with much hope and affection. All she could manage to say in-between her sobs was,
“Mommy said--- she--- will be in--- Brownie--- if she ever--- gets lost. B-b-but she won’t--- talk--- to me.”
It felt as though my heart was snatched from me, broken into infinite pieces, and finally handed back to me on a knife. I knew life was cruel; never thought, it would be THIS brutal. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who was heart-broken. By the time I had registered the information and managed to compose myself, Chris had scooped up Sarah in his arms and was whispering all sorts of affectionate words. But they were just that- words- for nothing would ever be enough to console the little girl. For now, though, that seemed to work.
Once we (Chris) was successful in assuaging Sarah, she led us towards the place where her family was gathered. Her grief-stricken, distraught father spotted her and rushed towards her. Words decided to elude us. After all, what can a person possibly say in such a situation?
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much!”
“It’s no problem. Um, uh, we are really very sorry.”
The father smiled for a bit and looked down, seemingly at a loss for words. Yet, his silence spoke so much- how sad he was, how confused he was, guilty, angry, sorry, and scared. At least he still had his little girl.
As we made our way out, my heart was heavier than ever. For a while, we were unable to say anything. How did something that was supposed to be a fun-filled, romantic day, turn out to be this exceedingly tragic? As twilight neared, the skies were covered with thunderous clouds. The daylight gave way to a rain-filled evening, a scene that mirrored our internal struggles.
Still unsure of what to think, we snuggled closer to each other, grateful for what we had at that moment- someone to love. As we passed a shopping complex, my eyes caught the sight of something that I thought would make our day better.
“Brownie!”
“Huh? What?”
“That’s Brownie! Let’s go buy one!”
Buying Brownie Jr. (that’s what I called it) was the best decision of our lives. The day’s events were pretty arduous for us, so we decided to go to our spot. The palm trees at the end of an uneven roadway were our favorite place on earth. That and the roof of our house. In the heavy downpour, it took us forever to cross the trail. But the thought of Tree no. 8 waiting for us helped us soldier-on. Tree no. 8 was where we had our first kiss. That was the tree, under which Chris proposed marriage. That was the tree where we finally exchanged rings and vows. It was a special tree, a witness to our love story over the years. It was the same tree that eye-witnessed me crying over losing Chris because my parents were against it (he was fifteen years older). It was my tree, and it was his tree. It was our tree. Tree no. 8, or as we liked to call it, Mr. Gawker was waiting for us to have yet another special day under it.
I flopped down under Mr. Gawker as soon as we reached there. Sweat mixed with rain wasn’t a pretty look on me. Not for Chris, apparently. I never saw him look at me the way he looked at me that night. Maybe it was the futileness of life or the realization that no one ever has forever, but, love was evidently really thick in the air that night. It wasn’t the rain. No. The skies had cleared once more, the moon shining brighter than ever, and the stars gazing down at a million love stories being written that night.
“Shall we do what we came here to do?”
“Um, Chris, how weird would you think I was if I said that I wanted to bury Brownie Jr. along with the other thing?”
“I would say you are the cutest person alive on this earth.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
Mr. Gawker was a spectator to yet another Chris-Kara love story moment. The spot under Tree no. 8 now buried within itself Brownie Jr. and the greatest thing to happen to us. Ever.
“Gammy! Are you there? Are you okay? GAMMY!”
My musings were interrupted by Amaya’s concerned screams. “I’m fine!”
“You didn’t look fine!”
“Got lost in time, sweet pea. Happens to old ladies like us.”
“You scared me.”
“Aw, I love you, my baby. Here we are, by the way.”
“Is this the place you and Gran-pop would never stop talking about?”
“This is it. We used to call this tree Mr. Gawker.”
Laughter filled that place once more. The air was still heavy with love. Amaya helped me dig up the spot. After looking for a while, we finally re-discovered Brownie Jr. and a teeny tiny wooden box.
“It’s like a time capsule, Gammy!”
“It is.” Hot tears streamed down my face as I missed the person I buried the time-capsule with. Missed him a lot.
“You guys really loved each other, didn’t you?” said Amaya wiping my tears, but in vain. As I held the tiny box and the teddy bear, I couldn’t stop the grief within me from coming out. I hugged the objects in my hand with a force real tight.
“Did you know that we only intended to bury this box over here that day? We left the house to meet the doctor to confirm what we suspected, and entomb the results along with the rest of the items in the box. On our way, we met this little girl who had just lost her mother. It was heart-wrenching, considering that we were just celebrating a new life that day.”
“Aw, that’s really sad, gammy! How did you get through that? I mean, I know that you two cry over the smallest of things. That must have been really tough.”
“It was. But that was the day we found newer depths of love within each other. Something you won’t understand now. Maybe in the next 20 years or so!”
I unlocked the box and found what we were here for. Memories. Old ones and new ones. I hugged my little Amaya. Within the box, the test results, my first pregnancy test, and a tiny little scarf, Chris bought at the store where we bought Brownie Jr., were smiling back at me. All of them, proof of the day we found out about our greatest gift- our daughter, Sarah.
“That’s it, Gammy! I’m not walking anymore!” The tiredness and irritation in Amaya’s voice only made this adventure better. Whenever she gets annoyed, her face flushes with child-like innocence, which I love looking at. It reminds me of the days she was a teeny tiny baby, who would fit into my arms. With her, I feel like a child myself, a feeling so imperative for an old lady!
I laughed and continued walking on the graveled path. “Not funny, gammy!”
“Trust me, after all this is done, you will find this hilarious!”
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” The sarcasm in her voice wasn’t lost on me, however, I had better things planned for the day. I had been looking forward to this morning since forever. In fact, the only reason a 30-year old me dug up that spot was to enjoy THIS particular day. As if to reverberate everything I was thinking about, the rain decided to accompany us on our journey.
The thunderous skies opened up a bunch of memories from the first time I was here on this journey, with Amaya’s Gran-pop. And although it may sound cheesy, it only feels like yesterday, that we were on this journey. Nothing about the gravel-laden path had changed. Over the years, though, a few vacation homes emerged among the palm greens, the place where the path ended. This was our favorite place. Along the coast, where the cool water meets the hot sand, stood a bunch of palm trees, each trying to appear taller than the other. We would play a game- me and my late husband- What do the trees talk about? You see, one of the joys of being with someone who loves you immensely is the ability to let go and be as stupid as possible. As the years pass by, all those so-called “stupid” antics become fond memories. I, for one, am so glad that we were able to make a zillion of such memories. When one leaves you behind all alone, you have nothing but the memories to cling to.
It was one such pursuit of making a cherish-able memory when Chris and I came across a little girl sitting by the crossroads, and pouring her heart out. For some reason, her tears bothered me tremendously.
“Looks like the little munchkin is lost!”
“Let’s go and find out.” Saying so, Chris held my hand and we walked towards her with a hope that we might be of some help to the poor creature.
As we approached her, I noticed the teddy bear she was clutching with a life-threatening force. The closer we got, the more I could see the fear mixed with anguish on her face. The endless tears streaming down her face would have been enough to melt the hardest metal on earth. Her wide deer-eyes reminded me of my own when I was an 8-year old myself. Something within me stirred a million emotions.
“Are you okay, sweet pea?” My dear husband was the gentlest with children. This was actually one of the many things that I loved about him. When the entire race was hell-bent on portraying men as rough and tough, my man decided to embrace the “softer” version of himself. Expressing emotions was never a problem for him. His emotions were extremely colorful- from bright, sunny to dark and dull, the whole range. Believe me, it’s hard to find someone like him- even today. Maybe it was the age gap, but his maturity levels never failed to amaze me.
“N-o-o! I-can’t find—"
“You lost, honey? Do you want some water?” I tried to calm the girl. “What’s your name?”
“S-S-S-Sarah.”
“Okay, Sarah, are your parents lost?” Had I been a passer-by, I would have pegged Chris as the little Sarah’s dad. So much compassion!
Sarah looked at her tear-soaked bear with much hope and affection. All she could manage to say in-between her sobs was,
“Mommy said--- she--- will be in--- Brownie--- if she ever--- gets lost. B-b-but she won’t--- talk--- to me.”
It felt as though my heart was snatched from me, broken into infinite pieces, and finally handed back to me on a knife. I knew life was cruel; never thought, it would be THIS brutal. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who was heart-broken. By the time I had registered the information and managed to compose myself, Chris had scooped up Sarah in his arms and was whispering all sorts of affectionate words. But they were just that- words- for nothing would ever be enough to console the little girl. For now, though, that seemed to work.
Once we (Chris) was successful in assuaging Sarah, she led us towards the place where her family was gathered. Her grief-stricken, distraught father spotted her and rushed towards her. Words decided to elude us. After all, what can a person possibly say in such a situation?
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much!”
“It’s no problem. Um, uh, we are really very sorry.”
The father smiled for a bit and looked down, seemingly at a loss for words. Yet, his silence spoke so much- how sad he was, how confused he was, guilty, angry, sorry, and scared. At least he still had his little girl.
As we made our way out, my heart was heavier than ever. For a while, we were unable to say anything. How did something that was supposed to be a fun-filled, romantic day, turn out to be this exceedingly tragic? As twilight neared, the skies were covered with thunderous clouds. The daylight gave way to a rain-filled evening, a scene that mirrored our internal struggles.
Still unsure of what to think, we snuggled closer to each other, grateful for what we had at that moment- someone to love. As we passed a shopping complex, my eyes caught the sight of something that I thought would make our day better.
“Brownie!”
“Huh? What?”
“That’s Brownie! Let’s go buy one!”
Buying Brownie Jr. (that’s what I called it) was the best decision of our lives. The day’s events were pretty arduous for us, so we decided to go to our spot. The palm trees at the end of an uneven roadway were our favorite place on earth. That and the roof of our house. In the heavy downpour, it took us forever to cross the trail. But the thought of Tree no. 8 waiting for us helped us soldier-on. Tree no. 8 was where we had our first kiss. That was the tree, under which Chris proposed marriage. That was the tree where we finally exchanged rings and vows. It was a special tree, a witness to our love story over the years. It was the same tree that eye-witnessed me crying over losing Chris because my parents were against it (he was fifteen years older). It was my tree, and it was his tree. It was our tree. Tree no. 8, or as we liked to call it, Mr. Gawker was waiting for us to have yet another special day under it.
I flopped down under Mr. Gawker as soon as we reached there. Sweat mixed with rain wasn’t a pretty look on me. Not for Chris, apparently. I never saw him look at me the way he looked at me that night. Maybe it was the futileness of life or the realization that no one ever has forever, but, love was evidently really thick in the air that night. It wasn’t the rain. No. The skies had cleared once more, the moon shining brighter than ever, and the stars gazing down at a million love stories being written that night.
“Shall we do what we came here to do?”
“Um, Chris, how weird would you think I was if I said that I wanted to bury Brownie Jr. along with the other thing?”
“I would say you are the cutest person alive on this earth.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
Mr. Gawker was a spectator to yet another Chris-Kara love story moment. The spot under Tree no. 8 now buried within itself Brownie Jr. and the greatest thing to happen to us. Ever.
“Gammy! Are you there? Are you okay? GAMMY!”
My musings were interrupted by Amaya’s concerned screams. “I’m fine!”
“You didn’t look fine!”
“Got lost in time, sweet pea. Happens to old ladies like us.”
“You scared me.”
“Aw, I love you, my baby. Here we are, by the way.”
“Is this the place you and Gran-pop would never stop talking about?”
“This is it. We used to call this tree Mr. Gawker.”
Laughter filled that place once more. The air was still heavy with love. Amaya helped me dig up the spot. After looking for a while, we finally re-discovered Brownie Jr. and a teeny tiny wooden box.
“It’s like a time capsule, Gammy!”
“It is.” Hot tears streamed down my face as I missed the person I buried the time-capsule with. Missed him a lot.
“You guys really loved each other, didn’t you?” said Amaya wiping my tears, but in vain. As I held the tiny box and the teddy bear, I couldn’t stop the grief within me from coming out. I hugged the objects in my hand with a force real tight.
“Did you know that we only intended to bury this box over here that day? We left the house to meet the doctor to confirm what we suspected, and entomb the results along with the rest of the items in the box. On our way, we met this little girl who had just lost her mother. It was heart-wrenching, considering that we were just celebrating a new life that day.”
“Aw, that’s really sad, gammy! How did you get through that? I mean, I know that you two cry over the smallest of things. That must have been really tough.”
“It was. But that was the day we found newer depths of love within each other. Something you won’t understand now. Maybe in the next 20 years or so!”
I unlocked the box and found what we were here for. Memories. Old ones and new ones. I hugged my little Amaya. Within the box, the test results, my first pregnancy test, and a tiny little scarf, Chris bought at the store where we bought Brownie Jr., were smiling back at me. All of them, proof of the day we found out about our greatest gift- our daughter, Sarah.
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