I wake up early and feel miserable.
It’s not my first time, but still… not easier than before.
I can’t see the end yet. But somehow, I just relieved that I still walk -even with some stops.
Just because I still remember what you said.
With a box of chocolate and notes that you bought from a four-season country -your first job training workshop, also your first experience with snow -even you send me your skiing picture with a big smile. I thought you were soo cool.
The praline was good with some liquor, and your note was a simple yellow post it- … “loosen up a little. you are too bit serious lately”.
I still remember what I’ve remembered when I eat that chocolate, in my room, in that afternoon.
I didn’t bring an umbrella, but I wear my favorite blue hoodie jacket that I bought with my first salary as a privat teacher. So I walk trough the rain and found that package on my door. It warms my heart even though Bandung was so lovely with a light rain – I never complain-.
I was thinking what do you think and feel while you buy that and give it to me. Because I think I never do any good or big thing to you -I just give The Calling’s album cassette-. I was flattered. It feels good.
We were a complete stranger to each other before use yahoo email to say hi – I don’t have that account anymore- Honestly, I complete forgetting the way you find me -perhaps from my Geocities blog?
We chat in a yahoo chat room, maybe for two or three conversations. Then you offer a free concert ticket. I went to Jakarta for that after two or three email. You picked me up at the train station and that was the first time I see you personally. A nice guy wearing a glass and white polo shirt.
I enjoy the concert and we were sing-along together.
Then we spent a whole night in your car after the concert because I couldn’t call my friend whom I should stay with, and it was too late so I can’t get the last train, and I was too broke also coward to rent a room by my own, and you seemed to have some story that I can listen to.
That was our “Before Sunrise” moment and we talk a lot. Songs we heard, books we read, the movies that we watched.
I think that was my first time to confess that I want to be a writer.
I didn’t say it to my mother who kept my first poem that published in a kid magazine. I also didn’t say it to my father that pay my tuition for a math college without asking why I choose that major. I also never say it to my best friend.
Then I confess it to a stranger like you.
Maybe it was 17 years ago? Or 16? I’m not good with memorizing numbers.
Then we separate. I still try to reach you but I guess we didn’t have a proper time. I was too busy with my quarter-life moment, and so were you with your work. We live in a different time zone. We never say hi anymore.
Some years after that, I wrote many articles for the newspaper. I forgot how you found it but I think I just remember you said, “I found your name in the newspaper.”
I also forgot how you reach me. I don’t have your number when I change mine.
Then you said it was good to see my name in the newspaper. Then I remember you said, “I won’t be surprised if someday I see your name in the book that sold in the bookstore.”
At that time, I think that you still remember my confession.
But I have another thing to worry at that time so I love to see you as a stranger. A loveable stranger.
Or maybe I was too coward to ruin it so its easier for me with you at that distance. So I wish that you can be happy and perhaps someday in our life-when we old and wise- we can pass on the street coincidentally, with a big smile, or meet for a good afternoon talk with a cup of coffee about our dreams or kids.
Some years after that our second phase, I wrote books.
I know you can’t find me this time. You can’t see my name written in a book that sold in the bookstore. I am a ghost.
The ghost that still walks through the tunnel. I hope you can find me later.
So thank you. I relieved that YOU were my best stranger in life.