Rabu, 20 Ogos 2008

home - final part

She sat there. Their song was playing in the radio. Without knowing, her tears fall.

For how long more should she waited? Should she wait till she’s tired, because she already was, for a long time? Then why was she still there, sitting in the balcony, crying her heart out just because of a song?

When she saw the bouquet of red roses on their doorstep, somehow her heart fluttered. Her long day felt like as if it was just started.

‘He never gives you flowers. Why did you expect they were from him? How can you expect they were for you?’

For once in her life, she wished he forgot how she hated roses. She wished the flowers were from him. She wished they were meant for her.

There were times she really wanted to throw away her phone down through the windows. Let the phone break to million pieces. Let it be gone together with her hopes. What use of a phone when there were never any incoming calls from him.

“Missy, I missed you”

That was the sole reason she kept the phone. That was the last thing she had of him. His hoarse voice calling from whenever-on-earth he was. It was recorded two years ago. She laughed bitterly of how silly she was, making copies of the recording as much as she can. One in her personal computer at home, one in her pen drive and even one in her office’s computer. She had somehow lost him; she can’t afford to lose this last fragment of him that she can hold to. What if she forgotten how he looks like, how he sounds like. How can she go back to their home then?


She inhaled deeply. She put the hand phone in the box together with their pictures, their albums, their memories and perhaps her heart. She cried once again when she sealed the box. She promised herself this will be the last time. She promised herself she will never cry again for him, for them. And much to her dismay, her tears seem can not be stopped.

Her eyes explored the house once more as he grabbed her luggage.

‘This will no longer be my home, not had been ours for years’

When her hand turn off the lights and closed the door, she wondered if she should have done this years ago.



“I’m sorry, sir. She had been transferred to overseas. Is there anything I can help?”

“Perhaps you can give us her contact number there? We’ve been looking for her for years”

Her mother looked at the gentlemen curiously.

“It’s about her husband. There was an accident”


“He managed to secure her financial fund if something may happen to him”


In a dark house, sit a box in the end of a corner. Perhaps it was the wind. Perhaps it was a voice mail she never noticed to hear. Perhaps it was a voice mail that was delivered years too late.

“Missy, I’m going home today! Can’t wait to see you. This time I’m staying home with you. No more long travels, I promised! I love you~”


Y0nd13 berkata...

Sometimes what we think is the worst memory is the best. Sometimes what is obvious seems to be complex? Was it fate that God blinds us from seeing what should be see? Nay, one shall never blame the Great One.

It is our poor judgment that we fail to see what's good for us. A regretful life versus reality? I don`t know.