IT'S ME YOU HURT
Home to go home

With a face that sumringah online taxi drivers pick up and bring my stuff, 1 large clothing bag and 1 bag of crackles.

He followed me from behind to my parents' doorstep. I once again thanked the online taxi driver for receiving my order and driving me here. My parents' house is still one city with Angga mas house, but my house is in the suburbs, the distance is about 20-30 minutes if you use a car and if not jammed.

After saying goodbye, the taxi driver left. Stay alone at the door of my parents' house while carrying my son Ziva.

I was silent, for a moment I hesitated to knock on the door of the house I had lived in for 25 years before I got married.

I told myself to knock on the door of this house.

Tok Tok Tok there was no answer from inside. Naturally, at this hour house people must be sound asleep. I repeat three times. On the fourth corner I saw a glimpse from the window someone was walking towards the door.

When I opened the door, I was surprised to see me standing around holding Ziva and there was a bag next to me. Mom took my stuff while leading me to sit in the living room chair.

"Sit down, son. Why come here at this hour?" Ask mom gently.

Dad came out of the room, no less surprised to see his eldest daughter coming at this moment. Dad immediately took Ziva in my arms. Thankfully, my son did not wake up. She was like an innocent sleeping princess, and had yet to understand about what was happening. Mother stood rushing to the kitchen, and returned with a warm sweet tea.

"Drink" said the mother. Again he asked.

"What happened, son?" Ask mom with her soft voice without seeming intimidating.

I didn't answer, didn't know where to talk. My tears fell, though I tried to hold on with all my might but this cry escaped my lips. My mother immediately held me in her arms. Yes, he seemed to know that I needed time to talk. Like a child falling down and crying in his mother's arms. That's how I shed my tears in the arms of the woman who gave birth to me.

Yes, I am grateful to be born to a woman like my mother.

She was a strong woman in accompanying Dad and taking care of his three daughters. If we children make mistakes, he will first listen to our explanations and then advise us firmly but with compassion.

The three of us grew up to be strong women, but gentle and respectful to others. My mother was my example and example when I was married.

But I was too weak for my husband and family. I tried to serve them sincerely, but eventually I was always humiliated and humiliated.

Mas Angga to me. I never demanded anything from him. His salary is held by the Mother-in-law, because the Mother-in-law who manages the finances in the house. From starting to pay water bills, electricity, wifi, to shopping for kitchen needs and other needs arranged by the mother-in-law.

Unless there is a certain activity in Mas Angga's office which is only about two or three hours, Mas Angga will take Ziva away without taking me. I did not dare to offer myself or force myself to go with them.

My fault is so weak and I dare not speak of my heart. I think that being a wife should be silent, not talk much and nag and follow all the words of the husband, as long as the husband does not violate the law and religion. Yeah, all this time I thought Angga was a good husband and father. But it turns out... 'Ah, have I tired of crying from earlier because of Angga mas.' My inner.

I saw you go to my youngest sister Regina's room. He woke her up and had Gina move to sleep in my sister's first Reva room. That room used to be my bedroom before I got married to Mas Angga.

Gina's room has now been used as a warehouse, because it is the smallest compared to the size of my room and Reva. Dad put Ziva who was still sleeping soundly on my bedroom bed first.

Ah, I'm also lucky to have a father like him. I am happy to be born as the son of my father and mother. I have great respect for my father, he is a hard worker and his husband and father are responsible for the family.

I used to work for a print media company in my town. He's an editor and what engineering part I don't understand. Sometimes he came home late at night because he had to pursue the news dead line that would come out at dawn.

Dad tried to meet all the needs of his wife and our three daughters. Mother sometimes helps father by selling plantation products from behind my house, such as yams, bananas, tomatoes, chili, and some other types of vegetables and fruits. Fortunately we still have a large enough land behind the house and can produce. The proceeds are usually used by mothers for additional education, the rest is in the tube for urgent needs, or if there are sick family members.

I no longer work in the print media. The development of the times shifted the habits of people reading newspapers from print media to electronic media. Some employees must be affected by the lack of company income. My father was one of the employees who got a PHK from the company. Not because I'm not a good employee, but because of age. With the capital of severance money and additional from the savings of the mother, currently they open a stall in front of the house.

I saw Gina coming out of the room that my father had entered.

"Sir Reyna?" Said Gina still with her pillow face who was surprised to see me at home when she came out of the room.

"Sstt, talk to your brother tomorrow. Go sleep!" mother placed her index finger in front of her face, and directed Gina to enter Reva's room.

Now I am calm, and I am not crying anymore. I'm grateful at a time like this that I'm with Mom. Mom was the first one who would scold me when I was wrong, Mom the first one who would hug me when I fell. Mom was the first one who would protect me.

Mom knew I wasn't ready to talk at the moment, she gave me the space to calm down first without being pestered with questions or statements that could burden me and make me depressed. This is the real home where I came home - my mother, the woman who gave birth to me.

"Rest first Na. You must not be sleeping, right?"

She gently led him into the room.