Georgetterox

Along the way my homecoming, I saw two motorbikes crashed on the road of a village at Gombong.

The bags sprinkled out, the passengers – I also saw a little toddler in his Mom’s arms – fell down to the road.

I wanna stop my car to find out if someone got hurt, but my Dad stepped the pedal gas and left the accident coz we didn’t have enough time to get home to my Grandma’s at Kreyongan.

Once I was anxious coz there was news on the radio, the deputy of Nadhlatul Ulama and Muhammadiyah at

East Java

announced that Eid Mubarak would be held at Monday. Though our family planned to celebrate the Eid Mubarak at Tuesday.

On Monday all of us were still on the road, so we couldn’t celebrate the Holy Day on time with East Javanese.

Thank God that some local citizens deserted and preferred celebrating at Tuesday.

So I could still do praying

Id.

I stopped a while at my Bu De’s at

Malang

, just for sleeping a few hours to continue the journey to my Grandma’s at Kreyongan.

My another aunty, also lives in

Malang

, got pissed off coz I didn’t prefer sleeping in her place.

I gave her the reason that I wouldn’t celebrate the Eid Mubarak with my Bu De this year, while I would be with this my aunty at the day, so what’s wrong with spending my time a while with my Bu De. But my aunty didn’t wanna understand.

I was a little confused and a little happy coz I was fought for by the two of my families, one was my Dad’s sister and one was my Mom’s.

It’s hard if you’re loved by a lot of people.

I came to my Grandma’s at Kreyongan right at Monday night.

The takbir was echoed, and I was so glad that some Kreyonganers would pray at Tuesday and not come with neither NU nor Muhammadiyah.

My cousins arrived earlier at Grandma’s and together we built the tens at the yard.

We’re such a huge family, and Grandma’s place wasn’t big enough to be stayed in by all of us, so we would sleep in tens.

It felt like evacuation from an earthquake, the difference was just that we have some bathrooms that clean enough to defect on.

Kreyongan loves waking up in the morning.

In my hometown, Id-praying began at six and an half.

But at Kreyongan, at five, the cars had fulfilled the town square and the citizens had came around to pray.

The sun was high, the sky was bright.

It was so glad to come hand-in-hand  with my Dad, Mom, and my sister after we prayed together.

Not like the common people, in my family, forgiving wasn’t main.

The important thing is, everybody comes around, and together we’ll attact the opor ayam and lontong that was cooked by the women of our family.

The next thing was the endless photo session in our family’s cemetery  and in my Grandma’s place.

Technology has grown up so fast, and almost all of my cousins showed off each of their cameras.

So many people was busy to capture and record, and sometimes we wondered when it’s our turn to get captured and get shot.  We held the camera anyway!

Everybody was so glad   that I’m graduated from my medicine school.

But the question has changed now. When will I show them my future-hubby?

I wasn’t brave enough to tell them that me and my darling has broken up.

I wasn’t even interested to think of him, considering what he had done to me a few weeks ago.

He wrote me to tell happy Eid Mubarak, and he apologized.

The problem is, I’m not a good forgiver for betraying issues.

Baby, they told me that this is Lebaran.

But why is it hard for me to forgive ya, though now I’m missing you so much?

If I could be the executive producer of Doctor’s Oath ceremony:

·   I would like to hold the event in an hotel, at Eldorado Dome, or on the stadium of football. Because, those places must be loaded more people and costs less than the hall of university.

It’s impossible, coz Doctor’s Oath only could be vowed at ahead the Professors, while the seats of the Professors may only stand in the hall of university and can’t be moved on, even moved outside the room.

·   If it’s all just about the seats matter, then for the Professors I’ll rent Ligna seats. Because, when they’ve sat down, they’d forget to stand up.

It’s impossible, coz those Professors have been already comfy on their seats, same as like me have been comfy on my sofa in my living room.

·   When I come ahead to the podium to greet the Professors, the choir near the stage won’t sing Bagimu Negeri as usually, but they’d sing Josh Groban’s You Raised Me Up.

It’s impossible, coz if my request was commanded, the others would request the different other songs.What if somebody wanna be sang Cucu Novia’s SMS?

·   I don’t think that the draft of the Professors’ speeches supposed to be loaded in the book of Oath. Nobody would read them, or even listen to them, so it must be just the extravagance of the printing cost.

It’s impossible, coz the Professors would be upset coz they couldn’t be popular coz their names weren’t mentioned in the book.

·   The scholars may bring more than three people of each family as their portions, so they may not just bring their parents and their brothers, but they could also bring their mother-in-laws, their nannies, or even their Sephias.

It’s impossible, coz in every brevets, there must be an uninvited, who admits as the betrayer of the scholar, though they don’t even know the scholar.

·   No need to provide much food on the lunch. Trust me, the scholars prefer capturing themselves in photos than having something to eat. Besides, eating only wiping the lipstick that we’ve put from home.

It’s impossible, coz Indonesian never miss free-lunches.

·   Girls don’t need to tie up their hair. We’re still looked nationalist though we don’t wear kebaya or even konde.

It’s impossible, coz if this came true, the beauty shops would be bankrupt coz they lost some orders.

·   The scholars don’t need to give some souvenirs to the hospitals that they have been admitted only for grate. Symbol without a real devotion is such a bullshit.

It’s impossible, coz those hospitals directors still want souvenirs. When will they get the chance to get captured when they accept those souvenirs?

·   The scholars don’t need to donate some units of computer to the faculty as a grate. Because it’s a pungli.

It’s impossible, coz the faculty remains wanna preserve the history of pungli inside this nation.

Has anybody ever held your hand so tight that made you feel that your hand almost broke? Well, I was there. And it was really uncomfortable.

But my job as a labor rescuer demands me so, everyday.

All Moms says that delivering is really painful, the his is really irresistible that made them had to find something to grab for relieving the pain.

And they hold anything around them that they can hold, the bed handle, the infuse stand, even the doctor’s hand.

Too bad that they often forget that their doctors’ hands are not created from iron.

My patient tonight pushes so hard, absolutely painful, and she’s got anything too hold, but she just prefers my hand, coz I stand right by her. Oh, her grabs are so tight.

Little more, and she’ll break my hand.

She lays her body to me, and when the his is getting more often, she grins and unexpectedly she sinks her face into my stomach.

I can feel she expirates grunting right there. I swear, the feeling’s abominable.

Itchy, absolutely. But I also shiver. And turn on.

I remember, the last time someone sunk his face into my stomach, me and him broke up a week later.

My patient cries in pain, but then the his stop and the pain relieves.

I release her hold slowly, then I leave the VK to find the fresh air in a moment.

My eyes are wet.

“Why? Why, Honey?

It’s not supposed to be my patient’s face sunk into my stomach, but it’s supposed to be yours.

Just like what you did a few weeks ago when we made love, when you kissed my stomach, and asked if I can be yours unlimitedly.

It’s not supposed to be my patient who holds my hand now, it’s supposed to be you, I volunteer that you’ll hold me tight, just break it if you’d like to, but don’t take your heart away from here.”

I loved him. He was such a jerk, but he made me happy. I wanna take care of him.

And he wanna take care of me, too. But he wanna take care of and love other women, too. What a greedy.

My eyes are wet, but the tears don’t fall. It’s weird. I can’t cry anymore.

I’ve been broken up with my boyfriend a few weeks, but I still haven’t cried.

Maybe it’s true that I’ll never cry for him.

Maybe he can’t hurt me, coz I can’t feel the heartache, coz it’s true that I don’t have any soul anymore.

But then why do I just shiver and turn on when my patient hugs my stomach while she’s pushing? Why am I just sad as I remember my ex’s arms? Am I really missing him?