Bald-headed
Ch. 2

"I'm not special, I'm sure of this. I am an ordinary person with the same thoughts, and I have lived the same life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I love once again with all my heart and soul, and to me, this is always 'enough'."

Romantic people call it a love story, cynics call it a tragedy. In my mind it was a bit of both, and no matter how others chose to look, in the end it did not change the fact that it involved my life, the path I had chosen to follow.

Unfortunately, time does not make it easy to stay on track. The road was straight as usual, but now it was filled with rocks and pebbles piling up. Until two years ago it was easy to ignore, but now it is impossible. There is a disease in my body. I was neither strong nor healthy, and my days were spent like old party balloons.

I placed my glasses on the table for a moment while opening the notebook. It took two licks on my wrinkled finger to open the worn-out cover to the first page. And put on my glasses.

People might call me a dreamer or a fool or something because I believe that anything is possible.

I realized the odds, and science, was against me. But science is not the total answer. This I know, this I've learned in my life. And it led me to believe that miracles, no matter how hard to explain or unbelievable, are real and can happen without regard to the order of nature.

So once again, as I do every day, I started reading the notebook out loud, so that she could hear it, in the hope that the miracle that had dominated my life would win again.

And maybe, just maybe, it will happen.

It was early January and Sugiono watched the fading sun sink lower than the terrace of his modest home. He liked to sit here at night, especially after working hard all day, and let his mind wander without conscious direction. That's how he relaxes, the routine he learned from his father.

He loved to see the trees and their reflection in the river. The trees on the edge of Situ Gintung are always beautiful in the afternoon or early morning, green, yellow, some become red and orange. The colors will be more dazzling when exposed to sunlight, never saturated even though looking at it for a hundred times. Sugiono wondered if the original owners of the house spent their nights thinking the same thing.

The house was built in 1902, making it one of the oldest and largest houses on the outskirts of Situ. Originally it was the main house on a vast estate and Sugiono's father bought it right after the war ended and then spent a few months and a little money to fix it.

Reporters from local newspapers have made articles about the house several times and on average they say it is one of the best restorations ever seen. At least that house. The remaining property was another story, and that was where he spent most of the day.

The house stands on two and a half acres of land adjacent to Situ Gintung, and Sugi has been working on a wooden fence lining the other three sides of the property, carefully inspect the wooden fences if they are rotten, dry or termite, replacing the poles if necessary. He still has more work to do, especially on the west side.

He went inside the house, drank a glass of sweet tea, then took a bath. She always takes a bath at the end of the day, the water washes away dirt and fatigue.

He stretched his hands over his head, then to the side, twisting his shoulders as he finished his routine. He feels good and clean now, fresh. His muscles are tired and he knows he will be a little sore tomorrow, but he is happy he has achieved most of what he wants to do.

Sugi grabbed his guitar, remembering his father back then, thinking about how much he missed him. He plucked once, adjusted the tension on the two strings, then plucked again. This time it sounded right, and he started playing. Soft music, quiet music. He hummed briefly at first, then began to sing as night fell around him. He played and sang until the sun was gone and the sky turned black.

It was a little past seven when he stopped, and he sat back down to his chair and started to sway. Out of habit, he looked up and saw Orion and the Big Dipper, Gemini and the Polar Star dancing in the sky of January. Ah, Big Dipper! Sugi straightened his back, he used his two bowl stars to find the bright gold star Capella in the constellation Auriga the Charioteer.

He started counting the numbers in his head, then stopped. He knew he had spent almost all of his savings to renovate the house and had to immediately find work again, but he put those thoughts aside and decided to enjoy the rest of the recovery month without worrying about it. It will work for him, he knows it always happens. After all, thinking about money usually bored him.

From the beginning, she learned to enjoy simple things, things she couldn't buy, and she had trouble understanding people who felt otherwise. It was another trait he got from his father.

Cemong, a Persian cross cat and local cat, came up to him and kissed his hand before lying on his leg.

"Hey, girl, how are you?" he asked while patting his head, and he whined softly, his soft round eyes staring upwards. A car accident had taken her leg, but she still moved quite well and accompanied him on quiet nights like this.

Sugi was thirty-two now, not too old, but old enough to be lonely. She has not dated since she came back here, has never met anyone who is interested in her. It was his own fault, he knew.

There was something keeping a distance between him and any woman that started to get close, something he was not sure he could change even if he tried. And sometimes in the moments just before bed arrives, she wonders if she is destined to be alone forever.

The night goes by, keep warm, fun. Sugi listens to crickets and rustling leaves, thinking that the sounds of nature are more real and evoke more emotion than things like cars and planes. Natural things give back more than they take, and their voices always bring them back to the way humans should.

There were times during which he had to leave home, especially after a big engagement, when he often thought of these simple voices.

"It's God's music and it'll take you home." Said his father at the time.