RUSTING BOAT
Chapters. 3

I breathed a rough breath as my memory of the wound re-present tore through the walls of my heart and soul.

No. I can't be weak. I must be strong, my heart encourages my soul which is now beginning to be fragile gnawed at the wounds of the past.

His wife Syafrie's asthma is long dead. I killed him myself and buried him with the body of someone buried in the yard next to my house. Buried it with all my love and all my hate. Everything is gone, decayed along with the fall of Cambodian flowers that fell on the ground of the tomb.

Today, I did go home. But my return this time is not to go back to your past, but to let go and start a new life with someone I love.

" Well, we've arrived, Asthma! " tah Sappe said to throw away all my daydreams.

"Don't go home before you finish your taste of kangen the same village. Oh. yeah. Fadil would be happy to know you've come. The boy misses you so much" said tah Sappe again mentioning the same child's name to me.

" Yes, Tah, thank you for bringing Asthma. Say hello to Tah Nure, later if there is time, I will take the road to our house." I kissed the hand of the Teetah Sappe as a form of my condolence to him in lieu of my father.

" Yes, Tetah will say. Assalamu'alaikum! " she said as she passed past me who was still standing glued.

" Waalaikum salam." I smiled at the departure of the increasingly distant Tetah Sappe.

Lembayung dusk has disappeared alternating with the concentrate of the night. I'm still standing on the side of the road. There was a reluctance to come upon me as these eyes turned around and stared at a house that was entirely painted with a light yolk.

" Is my decision to go home right? " i'm a monologue in my heart.

My footsteps stumbled past the road to my mother's house covered in small pebbles. I dragged my suitcase and my bag with great difficulty.

Damn it... High heels that I wore a few times snagged, making me grimace when my feet slipped. In the past, our yard was just muddy clay and wet when it rained. The situation has changed a lot.

Ten years ago, the small trench in front of our house was just an ordinary trench that was only twenty centimeters wide. Now, the trench has transformed into a large trench covered with cement on his left right.

Also the field in front of the house that used to be often used as a place we play, is now full of houses. There are no more trees there. Only the remaining coconut trees in front of our house seemed to bear witness to the history of the story of time in the history of the lives of the children of mama.

I see now in front of our house there is a light bulb that illuminates the front street of the house. Apparently PLN has greeted the village where I live. Gave a little color to the bleak civilization of my village.

" Brrrr, cold! " i close the long cardigan that lines my body so that the cold nighttime sea breeze that starts to greet through the gap of the trees behind my house is slightly reduced.

I was standing right in front of my mom's house. Stare at the tiny house building. There are no more wooden poles to support the house, nor the walls of mangrove wood that line our house from heat exposure and rain. Everything has been changed into poles made of cast - castings of cement and sand, and walls of houses made of brick. Our hut house has been turned into a concrete house.

My mother is a simple woman. He likes simplicity. It is only natural that this house is painted in yellow. The brown window frame is the right color combination that gives the impression of simple and serene. The addition of two rattan chairs on the front porch of the house complements the beauty of this house.

Tetah Sappe is right, a lot of changes that occurred in the span of a decade were missed in this village. I'd never know which one was my mom's house, if only Sappe hadn't brought me here.

With trembling hands, I tried to dare to knock on the door of the house which was also painted with brown color.

" Assalamu'alaikum's... "

" ..................... "

" Assalamu'alaikum." I repeated the greeting for the second time.

My chest was pounding - the pounding imagined someone would open the door. My hands feel numb. I'm holding my chest. I guess...

" Assalamu'alaikum! " i hardened the sound from the original slowly now a bit loud.

" ......... "

" Sharia does not exist. He went to the next village, there was a celebration at his son's house. His granddaughter wants circumcision." Neighbors in front of my mother's house were screaming to tell me. I was fixated on staring at a middle-aged man wearing a peci and a sarong. Looks like he just came home from a musalla located not far from the house of mama.

" The village next door? " much confused.

" Yes, madam. Maybe not come home tonight! " answer.

" Yes, next door, Pandan Bay. Her daughter-in-law had just given birth, and one of her grandchildren was also willing to be circumcised" the person said.

" Oh.... How is this? " i was muttering to myself. I have to stay on this porch until tomorrow.

" Mom don't worry. Her other daughter-in-law will soon be home from work. The maaknya later the same he can both go following there. In half an hour, it must have come! " he said again.

" Thank you, sir! " i gave her a smile. It's okay, half an hour won't be long I said in my heart.

" Same - same, ma'am. If there are any difficulties, please come to the house. My house is this one" he said, pointing to the house opposite my mother's house.

I nodded my head. " Yes, sir. Thank you again. I'll just be here waiting." I replied.

" Then you go in first, ma'am" said the middle-aged man as he left the courtyard of his mother's house and stepped into the courtyard of his house located opposite the house of his mother.

I nodded politely as I returned again to throw a smile at his departure.

Upset because I had to wait I chose to throw my ass in the rattan chair on the porch of the house.

I took my phone and earphones out of my bag. Killing half an hour by listening to music is not long.

I opened the whatsApp app and opened the incoming chat. There were over thirty messages on my phone. Most of my friends asked me when I was coming home. Hadeuh.just left a day already asked when he came home.

There was also a message from Mas Haris, who asked if I had met my mother and family. To be honest, right now I miss the gentleman so much.

I replied to a message from Mas Haris. I blushed to my own shame when I realized my words resembled a girl who was stricken with the love virus. I play music and put a headset in my ear. My memory goes back to the past.

" Asthma, when do you wear a hijab?" Brother Mansyah, my eldest brother rebuked me for not wearing a hijab.

It was just me, the only sister in this family, who was the hardest to manage among all our brothers.

The oldest child in our family was brother Mansyah, then the second brother Lela, and the third brother Darre. I was the fourth child. Another brother of ours is the youngest Alif.

Mama has three daughters and among the three, I was the only one who didn't want to hijab.

" It's immune to hell fire! " said brother Darre on brother Mansyah.

" You know Asma, later in the hereafter, your Father, I, alif, and also your husband who will be held by God to account for all your conduct!" advice my brother with a huffed face.

I sniffed in annoyance. It's nothing - what. I was too affectionate not to show off the beauty of my long, black, and wavy crown all the way to the hips.

My face is pretty. Sweet people say. With a slim body and yellow skin, making me one of the prima donna of the village in this village. Many young men chose me as their target.

But my choice actually fell on a mature brown-skinned young man, sharp-nosed and wry-eyed, Syafrie. I gasped violently as my memory returned again to the figure of the man. There was anger in my chest.

I was breathing rough. For some reason every time I remembered that name, my long-buried feelings of hatred and resentment re-emerged.

Mas Haris, only one of Haris, the man who can treat this liver injury. I did not expect that my relationship with Mas Haris could reach this stage.

Mas Haris opened my eyes, that I had to face everything. Not even hiding behind the mud of revenge that drowned my identity all this time.

" Vengeance will not make our hearts calm." said Mas Haris when asked me to go home and I insisted not want to go home because it still hurt.

" Learn to be at peace with the past and all suffering. Because what can't kill you even if it hurts, usually makes you strong."

I think I miss that guy a lot.