LovelyBunny001

My second writing after accident of that bloody draft unsaved. New rechapter.

I don't want to lose memory about Dad. Since I remember how to remember when I was little girl. I know clearly his face. Lately his appearance just like recently Jason Mraz face, trust me!

He had a tiny small moustache but not with beard. My mom dislike it. But I like it, it's cute and suits my Dad's posture. Because his narrow and small face doesn't seems bold, exceptionally when he smiled. Lately I got awkward when he smiled to me. Maybe never thought that would be the last. He's not so tall. Could be about 20+m approximately taller than me. That's why when I get older he doesn't think to treat me like a kid anymore. But why my brother taller than all of us??

He loves music. He can operate any instruments, not so well. But he's a real rocker. I know I'll be born to be a daughter of this fancy and crazy dad. He generalised all kind of genres, that influenced me to like every music I heard. Sometime I heard him listening to Blues or Country, sometime I seen him dance with Jazz and knocking knocking on the car body with rubber hammer when he heard to rock songs, I mean my rock songs. He loves that too. But not Nirvana and Linkin Park. He loves Avril. But why he obsessed to watch Rhoma Irama's concert?

Mom fallen in love to Dad when she had too many Englisg homeworks and she's very bad at english. So she asked my Dad to backup it. Then finally all crew in class got what they got of cheating, copying my mom homework. Yup, my dad is very good in english. That's where I got that skill. But it is not purely that way. I told that every afternoon and weekend Dad will play some random music in English, so that I can have his cassette lyric papers. So I read it and sing along. Knowing the songs ask me to find the meaning. Those all kind off process by learning English in fun ways. So do now I adapted.

Dad is a handsome gentleman. I feel so sick everytime I hurt his feeling or made him sad. Because since I was kid he always spend his time to me even he's busy. Read me the encyclopedia and Qoran. And so teach me and my brother of our homework. I start to dislike my Dad when I get older and having lot of time not in home. He keeps blame me of not doing my best. The more the gap between me and Dad getting larger the more I feel I can't talk to him closer like before. But he's just keep silent even when he got anger.

Dad is a real traveller. When I was just born, he took me away to places and places randomly. I don't remember all places. Just Bali in my mind, because my mom rarely told me story. Then Borneo, when my brother was born we were in Anambas. The last place was Bintan. Right now, I think it's fancy to move from place to place. But when I was child, I don't have bestfriend because can't adapted faster to children society then move again to another places. Also, even he already got me and mom. He's ever left us to Jakarta. For looking up any job that can make us continuing life. I miss Dad but I can't tell mom everytime I felt. Because exactly I don't know that feeling is true or not. I don't wish any souvenirs when he back home, I just wish he smiled for me again then we can go to fishing and spend our afternoon watching sunset at the harbour.

There's also another crazy but also miserable story about dad. When me, Dad and Mom lived in Bali. Dad was a Harley Davidson's biker and joined the comunity that would across the island for touring. Sometime he would left us alone in home. Harley can't take up passenger. Also it's too dangerous. That day mom didn't feel so well not like usually. From mom story she told that day, Dad was almost fall to the bottom of cliff while he's riding at a dangerous route somewhere in Ubud. Then I don't remember the next story but I think I know a bit why Dad became a Vespa rider at his rest time.

My dad isn't perfect. He had been tried his best to be my Dad. But he would never complained even when he got hurt he never told anyone.

When I heard a folk song of my favorite japanese singer suddenly rewind a childhood memory. I was in a house to the hill top. My house isn't so big, It is enough for three of us living. A white half wooden house. That time, I'm the only one kid, that's why I'm the focus in the family to be prioritized. I don't remember my age, but it must be I'm still a little sweet girl. My house is the only one house on the hill. so I don't have any friends. Every morning woke up to see my mom and my dad plant corn in the field. Ine day she said, don't laugh or smile. Don't show your teeth when you're planting the corn seeds.Then I ask why? Because when it corps, the corn will be incomplete and non beautiful. So next day I stop to help her again. Because I'm just a little girl that can't stop smiling every time, at least that time.
I'm just a litle girl that love to play. Because I don't have friends near my home, I follow my dad anywhere he goes. In my memory I still don't understand what's jobless, my father doesn't have a common job to do. He assisted a farmer that has large field, my parents help him to plant, corns, padeiy, and long beans. I'd loved to help then in the harvest month, the young longbeans is very sweet, I love to chew them in raw. Lucky, the farmer didn't plant carrots, you know what will happen then.
Our family was the side affected of Javanese people immigrants of Indonesia goverment program for equalization of population. When I was a kid I did not know that the island of Java is the most populous island. This imbalance causes the government to evacuate most of the population of the island of Java to the still sparsely populated areas like the place I stay. The odd is, I still don't know and can't remember where exactly I was. In my mind I just remember that all people around me talked in Javanese, smooth Javanese language.
When I grew up I still not understand. I just remember it that my dad has so much time to go with me. Sometimes, we go to the waterfall and see buffalos took a bath and we did too, sometime explore the (bendungan) and visit our far away neighbours. Seen their gardens, pick up some wild fruits and collect bird eggs in the forest that we found on the way home. If we went to downtown my dad used a bycicle he take me at the back of bike then I sang very noisy. I've ever fallen from the bycicle until one my knee left a very big wound that bleed me out. But I didn't cry that, I don't know why. Until now, I'm 25, the mark is still in there in my knee. We watched Kudalumping show at the downville, my father said there's a man can eat glasses in this place. But I don't believe. I think that he was lied to me. But the shows tell me my first magic thing, a man can eat glasses to, with no plate and spoons. When I grew up I thank god he has no job like when I was bigger.
My memory with my dad is irreplaceable. I know when I was adult I made so much troubles that tears him up. Now I can't say sorry anymore to him. All I should is not throw away my life in wasting it meanless and obviously pray for his best place in heaven.