"Why don’t you write again, back to your basic ? And this time..why don’t you try to write something more seriously. Try to make a story….," was his statement when we met after almost two years we did not see each other.
“Write a story” … my wishes that I have forgotten for more than 17 years and suddenly out of the blue came to me three months ago.
I did not tell him that I just create another blog for my Indonesian writing. Blog that I did not publish since the intention as a journal for my story.
I did not tell him that the words were coming like a bee recently and still I could not find a way to put it as a sentence.
I did not tell him that I was afraid to put that as a story since I am afraid to make an ending to that story, afraid that it will be the same as others.
I remembered one of the expert once said that we must be able to return back our “childhood” life to our “adulthood” life. But it was not as simple as that. We have encountered several incidents in our lives, and it affected of the way we react to our “childhood” dream.
Childhood was the stage of our life, where we never afraid to experience, where we put our wishes like we lick an ice cream, where we saw world as colorful as our crayon, where world as a place of our playground, where there is no sadness, where “brave” was the first word of our action and “fear” was the last word of our action.
“Don’t forget, write a story …. And please come to culture discussion this Friday,” his last statement awakened me from my stillness.