The Struggle of a Child
The next routine
Not long ago, my sister who was screaming was now silent, even her voice was not heard even though only a line of messy songs. The quiet, overcast silence that accompanied me was now in wait this afternoon. Even the twilight that began to enter, the more it seemed to approach my weak shadow.
The sound of the wind and the sound of the water gurgling with each other. They seem to be singing happily. I who was standing waiting for my sister had felt cold. How long have I been waiting for him with my mother who arrived at the well. He, too, looked happy after my sister called him for the first time. I saw her too, can already guess that she was smiling because my sister called her mother.
Let alone my mother, I who heard it too, feel happy. However, I can't confirm that my sister is now, as we saw. It could have been my little brother. So my sense of happiness is now re-embedded with the suspicions that are coming back.
I immediately might smell something strange from my sister's sudden change in attitude. My sister who was firm with her stance all along, how could her heart be as gentle as that changed by calling her mother. It's like a riddle jutting into the recesses of my heart.
While the wind that blows so cold hit me and my mother. Even my weak body, the more depressed I was standing in the middle of the twilight that was beginning to be present.
My sister was so engrossed in the water pouring down on her body that she forgot about me who had been waiting for her for a long time.
"Dad!" I shouted to call my sister. "Quickly hurry! Brother is cold. The day has begun Maghrib, Sister. Later, Dad will scold us. Gini's day is still here!"
"Yes Brother!" my sister stopped the water temporarily. "A little while, brother. I'm ready, I want to be!" My sister screamed loudly assuring me not to be agitated.
The sound of water that was heard noisy watering the floor board even, stopping now gradually. Slowly, slowly the water began to sound.
Bugh! Bugh! Bugh!
The sound of throwing a towel was heard loudly hitting the empty air created. The longer it takes to throw it the smaller it sounds. I, who was impatient, wanted to wash my face immediately, urged my brother to make him faster. "Sir, I am cold!" I shouted from outside.
"Yes Ana. Hurry little. The day is going to rain. Later you will be exposed to rain," said our contact mother who has finished tidying up her laundry. "Mother is done," he continued, confirming to my sister that he had compiled the laundry earlier.
"Yes Brother! Big brother, so much patience, anyway!" reply to my brother who has not yet come out. "Here I am wearing clothes, brother."
Chequek!
My sister also opened the door. "It's Brother." He too, came out with soap and towels. "Come in, brother!" his orders while standing at my place earlier.
"Liyan, hurry! Don't stay long ! You'll be sick again" said mother, continuing us as she walked away.
"Yes, ma'am" I replied as I stepped inside.
"Mother first, yes!" pamper it gently. "Do you dare here ?" the question is a little worried.
"We dare?" reply spontaneous.
Our bathroom was not in the house. However, our kitchen door can be clearly seen from here. So we feel a little need not be afraid because from the bathroom door, if we stand, look at the kitchen door that stands upright.
And so, we don't have to be afraid.
From behind me my sister who just called her mother. It just fell silent without responding in the slightest.
"Dik, wait for Brother for a moment, yes!" I pleaded while closing the door.
"Yes," replied my sister briefly.
Not how long I was in. The water that had been available in the bucket, was clear and the shadow of my face was visible in the water staring at myself. How sad he is right now. The illness I suffered never stayed away from me. He was coming closer to me regularly and was very reluctant to part.
Every second I look at it. When will all this end ? I'm tired of all this. There is no joy I can feel anymore. All seem to be in vain. Every step I take is meaningless.
My spirit right now is my father. The father who always fought for us. He was so resilient in making a living that even the rain and the scorching heat, had never been a hindrance to him.
My father never complained about our economy. But my father was so depressed when he found out about my illness. She was so devastated that her most beloved daughter was now devastated. My father used to say, 'never complain under any circumstances.' As we were difficult, he did not want to grieve over the situation. But if my father sees us sick, that's the hardest blow for him. When she found out the illness I was suffering from was never cured.
A big storm swirled around in our humble little family. My hard work so that I recover until this moment has not been fruitful. It was just a dream that I held and carried everywhere.
When I finish washing my face. My brother and I continued our journey home. The kitchen door visible from our bath immediately greeted us wide open.
While my father who was in the room now sat on his bench with a cup of warm tea that every afternoon when he was at home was never separated from him. The connecting mother who left us first is now seen sitting right next to my father.
I who had entered and walked towards the room saw the two of them getting along so well. It feels like they are no longer as busy as they used to be with their fights over me and my sister. They were waiting for us who never got home.
" That means Mom and Dad are friends" I said slowly.
"Daddy doesn't love me anymore" said my sister.
"Diiic! Not Dad no baby. Dear dad, it's with both of us." I kept walking advising my sister.
"Liyan, why are you guys so long ?" asked my father while sipping tea to see me.
I who want to keep walking towards the room now have to stop my steps and my sister.
"Father we were... ." I was silent directly.
"Father was washing," my sister replied cutting off my conversation straight away.
"What?!" My father was surprised to hear my brother's answer. "You wash?" ask my father who is sitting next to him.
"Mmm... !" My contact mother, too, twisted while throwing her gaze at the others. "... yes, yes" answered my mother with some anxiety.
"Who told you to wash your clothes?" ask my father in annoyance.
"Things exist! But I feel sorry to see you every day washing, cooking, while I just keep quiet and look at you. 'And it's only natural today that I help you, '" our mother said.
"But you don't have to bother to wash. Moreover, my son's clothes are a lot," continued my father as if feeling guilty.
"I don't feel burdened, I can only help you." Mother kept us back in touch with my father's words.
After my brother's overly honest talk. The small discussion between the two of them continued. My father, who felt all his shortcomings, did not want to put his troubles on his new wife. He just wants to give happiness to his wife even though it is just a ban to stay away from homework that is often faced day by day.
I, who could not hear him, quickly left the two of them behind while pulling my sister's arm.
"Sik, come!" take me into the room.
"They're making a fuss again" my sister said softly.
"You, anyway! Why do you have to be honest ?" I blame my sister.
"Sister! Not that, Brother said, that we should not lie," replied my sister innocently, making me quiet.
After a few hours we hid in our room. Routine activities after the Maghrib too, we carried out again that is, teaching with my father. As always, my father was consistent in educating us and teaching us to get down from his place of prayer. He too, sat before us not, like a father but, like a teacher teaching his pupil.
After that, my sister and I sat cross-legged in front of my father, who had our study system separated, I was in the living room while my sister was in my father's room. My father did that so that the two of us would not joke while teaching.
My famous sister was so ignorant at home with me made my father watch over me and my sister when teaching.
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