Human, devil and angel

Business Thought, Diary and Imagination

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Diposting oleh Cabbare ⋅ September 10, 2009 ⋅ Klik disini untuk kasih komentar

The most amazing creature is man, because he can choose to be a “devil or angel”.
Nako from the edge of the glass, between the opening curtain, I saw the man pacing in front of the house. His eyes kept looking at my house. His hands are inserted into pockets, occasionally wiping the sweat from his brow.

I watched him beating his chest. What do you mean adolescent age could be close with my eldest son’s new high school 2nd grade? See nervous behavior, did not he have bad intentions with my family? Want to rob? Is not this rob people no longer know the time? During the day when people were coming and going mugger could act, as many have reported the newspaper. Or he had a problem with Yudi, my child?

So if the man who always noticed that hold up my house, I can what? House gate was open. Anyone can enter.

But why the young man did not enter? Did not he wait until no one is caught? I am a bit relieved when the young man standing beside a telephone pole. I had other ideas. Maybe he was waiting for someone, girlfriend, friend, brother, or anyone who make a pact to meet at the telephone pole. I do not have to think like that berburuk. But this dizaman, with adverse events, tolerance is fading, do not distrust better than careless?

I still did not move from hiding, in between the curtain fabric, in addition to glass nako. I am still apprehensive because the young man occasionally still see the house. What does that mean? Ah, is not a lot of questions in this world who do not have the answer.

It crossed my mind to call neighbors. But I’m afraid so crowded. I could have a complex population of young people came. Yes if the child was questioned as well, try if you have not anything there to hit.

Suddenly the young man turned around and went to the home page. My heartbeat tightened again. I had suffered from heart disease. I resolve to call the neighborhood was made up, but my legs could not walk. Moreover, once the young man approached, I remember, I’ve seen and had a bad experience with him. But the young man not long on the front porch. He just put something into the gap in the door and hurried away. I still can not take it because my legs are still weak.

I never saw the young child who was troubled at the bridge crossing, either a week or two weeks ago. I bought a spice cake back then. Suddenly, over the pedestrian bridge, I was a hit, I almost fell. The penabrak is none other than the young and restless pacing in front of the house, apologized and rushed ahead of me. I am annoyed, especially when I got home I knew wallet stored in a plastic bag, together with the cake flavor, has disappeared.

And today, a restless man and the penabrak who stole it, my wallet back through a crack in the door. After I check, money three hundred thousand more, the gold ring which I always keep in my purse when traveling, and important papers, nothing less.

I long to see the wallet and detached. Like a fairy tale. A restless young man, who I think anyone would suspect, in the economic situation is messy like this, return the money that had been held. Is not that magic, like in a fairy tale. Or life is nothing more than a myth?

Along with a wallet that is inserted into a black plastic bag that I found the letter does not neatly folded. I read the letter for days and not out of mind and my heart is. Contents like this:

–

“Mother is well …, sorry I have taken my mother’s wallet. I was going to return the wallet you have, but I do not have a place to complain, so I write this letter, you may want to read it.

It’s been three months I quit school. My Dad got laid off and unable to pay the tuition money for months already nunggak, buying school supplies and provide costs. Because of the lack of family ability that I think it’s okay I school to grade 2 STM alone. But what made me hurt, you then often drunk and gambling tail circulating stealth it.

My brother is three people, all out of school. His mother sold fried deposited in the stalls. My brothers helped deliver it. I sold newspapers, helping out to buy rice.

I am aware, if things like this, I had to fight harder. I want to do it. From morning until night I worked. Not just selling newspapers, I also helped nyuci rice dishes in the shop and sometimes (as entertainment) I ngamen. But the money was mediocre (His mother often fail to learn to save money, and I understand), was also asked you to put on dark gambling coupons. Bilangnya will also be replaced if the number guess right. So far, you’d never guess right. Anyway pious His mother was not going to accept money from gambling, I believe it.

When Dad more often ask for money to His mother, sometimes with angry and hitting, I was not strong enough to silence. I chased you. And once you beat, my Dad fell back until the fall. His mother scolded me as a child cursed. I was hurt. I’m confused. I’m supposed to do?

When His mother getting sick and you become a gambling tail, hurt me more lumps, but I do not know by whom hurt. His mother just to bring me to the doctor just can not. Dad is more frequent sleep somewhere, do not care. I almost hit him again.

On the road, when I was selling newspapers, I often feel I have a big grudge, but revenge does not know by whom and for what. His mother could not see a doctor. But someone else can pitch in a luxury car just in front of me, occasionally with a mobile phone. And on the other side’s stopan, snack stalls storey, people spend hundreds of thousands for a meal.

So my resolve, His mother had to go to the doctor. Because of the sale of newspapers is not enough, I plan to pilfer. For days I attended a city bus, but I never dared to fondle pocket people. Instead of cold sweat ran down his shirt. I failed to be pickpockets.

And so I see people shopping at the store, I saw Mom put the wallet into the plastic bag. So I follow my mother. On the pedestrian bridge, I pretended to hit her and quickly took the wallet. I was glad when getting money 300 thousand more.

His mother came to me immediately and took her to the doctor. But Mother …, His mother even looked at me sharply. He asked, from where I get the money. I really want to say that it was my savings, or borrow from friends. But I can not lie. I told the truth, His mother turned away once I had finished.

In wrinkled cheeks flowing water beads. His mother cried. Mother …, I never felt like this confusion. I want to scream. Hard. Heart’s content. With 300 thousand more money I can actually eating, drinking, rah-rah. Not what I become a thief. No matter with Mother, with the people who lost. Because people did not matter to me. But I can not do it. My mother had to return the wallet. I’m sorry. ”

–

Letter without signature many times I read. My days looking for a young child who was confused and anxious. In each stopan where dozens of children and singing trading. In the city buses. Parks. But the young man was never seen again. Anyone who was in stopan, did not know the young man when I ask.

Tired of searching, under the shade tree, I read and reread the letter from the thief. A simple letter that made me uneasy. There is something that affects my thoughts and feelings. I am no longer blinded by all the luxuries. When Kang Yayan bring special gifts after a visit out of town, I’m not as happy as suggested by biasanya.Saya even by the ordinary-course.

Kang Yayan and my two children may seem strange with my attitude lately. But what could I do, my heart can no longer enjoy the luxury. No more my desire to eat in places that cost hundreds of thousands to eat, the clothes for millions of famous brands, and so on.
I refused even though Kang Yayan said it once in a while. As for my birthday, Kang Yayan offers to celebrate everywhere. But I want to cook at home, making food, with my own hands. And by noon, with the help of Bi Nia, over a hundred packets of rice I make. Kang Yayan and delivered both my children, rice-rice packets distributed to the beggars, the hawkers and buskers that many in each stopan.

In the last stopan we visited, I invited Kang Yayan and my two children to eat together. Quietly flowing tears my eyes.

Yuni up to me and said, “Mama, I’m proud to be a Mama’s boy.” And I want to be a Mama for thousands of other children.
Yuni up to me and said, “Mama, I’m proud to be a child’s Ma
ma. “And I want to be a Mama for thousands of other children.