ISHIHARA (Blind Color-Real Story)
Nineteen 5

***Nineteen.

Nineteen is a number that is miraculously***.

Nineteen is a prime number, which can only be divided by 1 and by 19

itself that. Dr. Peter Plichta argues that all Mathematical Formulas and numbers have a relationship with the two poles of mathematics and the universe - 19 and 81. The number 81 is specific because it completes the number 19, where

number of numbers 19+81\=100 and number of numbers 1+9+8+1\= 19.

Not only that further analysis found the miraculous relationship of these numbers

1:19\= 0.052631578947368421052631578947368421 .

it repeats automatically at the 19th digit after the comma, and starts again at 052631578947368421 and so on. Interesting thing is number number 0+5+2+6+3+1+5+7+8+9+4+7+3+6+8+4+2+1\=81. The opposite is 1:81\=

0.012345679012345679 .., again the number is repeated perodically

in order, but by eliminating the number 8.

I love the number 8, because I was born filled with the number 8 on the 8th of the 8th of the year

1989, 08-08-89 and tomorrow, Friday the 8th of 8 months of 2008, 08-08-08 compiled by triple number 8 is my 19th birthday.

Nineteen years ago I was born. And I could feel my father's happy face when

i'm born. The smile of Azaan holds millions of hopes to my ears through the shahdu. It was his face that I first saw a happy light. Now I know the happy face of my father when I was born. When I saw her, I took off the return of guests after the thanksgiving ceremony I graduated at the Faculty of Medicine.

Tonight my usual house is so crowded. Dad finally succeeded in carrying out my thanksgiving graduation at the Faculty of Medicine, becoming the only doctor and the only one

first in our generation. Dad's dream came true.  This is not my birthday, although it can be adjusted so because the next day I turn 19 years old, August 8, 2008. But more to pray that in our journey to achieve the ideals launched by Allah through all crossroads because tomorrow my father and I will go to Banda Aceh, Aceh, a country far away at the western end of the country.

He stood at the door, not far from me. Each guest left my house. They're one

the people greeted me by congratulating my father. I saw Dad's face so happy. Like a sunflower that blooms after the rainy season is over. Sumringah's father. Those people, neighbors, relatives, hitai tolan, they,

all residents of Gunung Crying Village also shook hands and congratulated

to me. Unlike Dad, I'm not as happy as Dad. I know anything can happen. I doubt, not doubt in do’a, but doubt in the course of destiny. Tomorrow is uncertain. Cracks of a human child no one knows.

things that can happen in Banda Aceh. I'm more worried about Dad. I can't help seeing you disappointed. All my life I've seen twice this happy father. First when you welcomed my birth. And secondly when

I graduated from the Medical School, my father's dream.

***

Eight lucky numbers, that's what I read. And at 08-08-08

at 08 a few minutes later I hugged Mom, and Dad did too, before we boarded the big bus. Buses this size is much larger than the bus majors that pass through Padang and Kuantan Bay. This large bus is only boarded by

those who travel far, between provinces, between islands, through Sumatra, the tip of Java to the island of Bali, passing through Medan City through Surabaya. This is only a small part of Indonesia.

Indonesia that I knew before was only a small part of Sumatra Island. And only on

just the middle. It turned out to be so vast a country built by the Founding Fathers first. I'm amazed. And the land of Aceh, the Land of Rencong, and the Portico of Makkah are far away countries. I feel

small-time.

Mom stood at the gate, the gate of our yard. He waved with glazed eyes. I happen to be sitting on the side of the bus. Dad's next to me. We reply to Mom's wishes.

“Continue do’ us..,”.

said the little father who I clearly heard. I know out there Mom just saw the motion of the word from Dad's lips.

“Emak ...,” I said in a wave. I don't know if I should continue with my words. Feeling unable to be expressed in words. Nineteen years old Mom loves me

and love me in that house. During that time I was educated and cared for, guarded from all dangers. Now I'm going. Go to, study to a distant country. I'll only go home occasionally. Father and Mother stay home

quiet us later.

I understand Mom is in tears. Nun deep in my heart began to moisten wet. During the bus

start walking. The driver stepped on the accelerator pedal leaving my house. I still see Mom standing on the side of the road. I kept seeing him until his shadow was gone when the bus passed the corner. I left my hometown, Weeping Mountain. My father took me to a far country.

 ***