I looked at the telegram which had just read, my inner turmoil. Ibu Diah sick, go home!

So the only sentence that listed there. Mbak sri told me to go home? But .... Mother Really sick? Imagine Mother, with its rigid flashed. It seems like only yesterday I still see him walking to feed the cattle we were alone. Through a broad meadow. Spinning there for hours. Overseeing our little house just a dot from behind the hill.

No. Mom did not even look tired at night. When all the activities that deplete day passed his physical strength. My mother always seemed very strong. Not only is strong, the mouth is still often heard expressions of spicy, especially that directed at me.

"So women should not be too often daydream Diah! Works, it will make your body strong!" remarked one day to me. In fact, at the time I was not idle. A book is dipangkuanku. But, my mother never appreciated my favorite reading. In his eyes, it's just useless activities which do not produce.

Another time she condemned the habit meeting with the youth village. My mother did not want to understand if the meetings do not without purpose. If we, the young people who gather there is trying to contribute ideas for the progress of the village. For a simple woman, the cattle drive is more useful than a long talk, and argument.

"You think talking can make you get the money?" Anxious moment I nodded and challenge the cynical eyes. Do not know Mother, in the city there, a lot of work that emphasizes the ability to speak. Mother should look at the election of village headman, and not just struggling with livestock - cattle in the pasture.

Village Head would not be elected if he had no ability to reassure and calm their people! However, the sentence was only ketelan in the liver. None kumuntahkan in front of him. Dress the way I was never really in his eye. There is just wrong. That is not rapilah, look-lakianlah association with and everything.

Actually I wonder, why all three mbakku woman can get through the day with keterpasungan understanding Mother. They can go to school, at least until the ice em es em pe and without much a fight with Mom. Graduate school, get married and have kids ... and once again, without having conflict with the mother. As for me?

It seemed there was no single thing that I've ever done, which he considered right. There's always less. Previously, once I've tried to please her. I tried to cook something for him. Despite all my brother know, I hate the kitchen activity. The result? I'm sorry to have to try because I did not appreciate my efforts.

"This is what happens if a girl can only learn. Do not know how to cook! Who wants to marry Diah about this later?" And then I fell down in the face of Mother helplessness. Slowly I even stopped trying to calm his heart.

I'm tired. So when there is a chance to leave home, and continuing education to college, with opportunities for scholarships, kegempur exhausted my ability, so the opportunity was not out of hand.

I have to go, away from the mother, from the comments - comments that painful. Still ringing in my ear mocking tone of voice that when he saw me prepare for the scholarship test.

"You do not succeed Diah! Never mind tired-tired! Women will go back to the kitchen, whatever his position!" No kuhiraukan Mother sentence. As usual I always try to help myself. At least until then. Kala defense collapsed to the ground myself. And for the first time I dared to challenge the cynical eyes are always shining, and I felt no love.

At that moment I felt so confident. The elderly woman who I called my mother over the years, have never and will never love me!

"Diah ... why daydreaming?" I wiped the tears that drip. Laila who captures the sadness at me intently. There are shades of worry in his voice then. "What is it? Your writing is rejected? No way!" he said trying to be funny.

I laughed softly, trying to reduce the burden on my heart, cleansed his eyes. My best friend's face radiates sincerity behind the veil he wore brown. I cleared his throat heavily. "Li ... believest you if I told you, there is a mother who had never loved her son?".

Laili looked at me puzzled. This question may seem strange in his ears. What else do I know his family is the hottest family ever find. Mother Laili not only wise, but also always melimpahinya with much love and attention. A far cry when compared to Mother!

"I think, love is an instinct that appears automatically when a person becomes a mother, Diah! It's the gift of God given to each mother. Taste the love, nurturing, and protecting!" Laili replied cautiously.

I looked from her eyes. We've lived a boarding house for almost five years. Kupercayakan all the joy and moments of sulitku him. But even if I never talk about my mother, and the injustice which she granted to me.

Once again, tears dripping. Remember, during the past five years, I never see my mother. Yes, not at all too! Although I thought was dry. However as a child, I have a love that I dedicate to the women wanted to be a melahirkanku.

Unfortunately, there is never a chance for me to realize it. My mother never catch rays dimataku love, let alone respond with a warm hug. My mother never cared!

How can I slowly began to hate? Maybe not in the sense of the word hate really is. Frankly, I began to remove his name in my life. In the years that have gone through I just send letters and photos on all the brother and nephew. None kualamatkan for Mom. Even if salaries are routinely kusisihkan money writing for the mother, it was never sent it directly. Always through one of my brothers. Most often through mbak Sri.

I learned to get rid of my need for love and motherly attitude from him. I learn ... forget Mom! "Diah ... why you ask?" Laili voice heard again. I thought more and more chaotic.

What is his opinion if he knew, his good friend's mother had been forgotten? Whereas in Islam, clearly stated the primacy to worship and honor Mother. I've always argued before him in prayer - prayer that go through.

Not I do not love him. But ... it seems that the will of his own mother to be forgotten! "My mother is sick Li! What should I do?" I finally asked helplessly.

Laili smile. His hands clasped my fingers again. "That aja kok, confused! Maybe he missed you. Look Mom, Di! Uh, when was the last time they met?"

My good friend is like remembering all the times school holidays that never kumanfaatkan to return home, served instead to visit the place or spend time in the dorm, spanning days.

"I never come home, Laili.'s Been five years!"

my answer make Laili choke. No wonder she was shocked. Five years is not a short time.

"You must go home immediately, Di! Let me book the train ticket. Do not forget to bring presents for mom. Hm ... what ya, liking him?"

Laili suddenly panic-stricken rush and extraordinary. As if to imagine visiting her own mother, who never met for five years!

"No need to bother Laili! I'll take care of yourself!" I said fine, but insisted Laili.

"Hey ... do not be so dong, Di! During this always bother you when you visit us. So .. let me take care of your trip this time. After all, you still have to prepare a presentation skripsimu, right?" I give up.

Before Laili go, I look at him again, "You sure I should go home, Li?" My question was greeted only warm smile.

"Sure, go home, my mother would miss you Diah!" Ahh ... if Laili know what kind of woman my mother's! He is harder than rock Laili, reefs can still be eroded sea water, but my mother?

Our little house had not changed much. It also houses a small plots beside it. Where the three mbakku and his family lived.

When I go into, I saw a room look not as neat as usual. Perhaps losing touch of my hand. Mbak Sri said, this past year my mother got sick a few times. However, he never allowed them to preach to me.

Because I do not need my presence, I whispered to myself. Mbak Ning who saw kecanggunganku explains. In her lap sat two spoiled little boy hung.

"My mother did not want me to disturb your college, Diah!"

I smiled sarcastically eldest brother heard it. Since when I'm thinking in college? Is not her daughter's just going to the kitchen?

Mbak Rahayu more silent, too, adding, "I often ask us Diah, many times in fact. It's how your college years? How much longer finish."

"Actually Mrs. Diah miss you, but I'm more interested in college." Mbak Sri add in the middle of breastfeeding her child.

But, I do not feel the need to be convinced. I know Mom. And for a child, being mother never love me. Not once did, saying my brothers just merely to please me. So I do not feel the incident five years ago, hebatku quarrel with my mother. Arguments that increasingly strengthen my heart to leave.

That night my mother many times shed sentences spicy to me. Objective one, so I do not go. To me, the attitude at that time my mother is very selfish and childish. While other people will warmly welcome the success of their children reach this kind of scholarship, he was vice versa. Do not know Mom, if I have to get rid of thousands of people to achieve this feat? I tried to write the ear, but the sentences do not gradually subside spiciness. Even increases.

"Going to town for women like you Diah, will only be a male meal! There's no place safe except in his own village. My mother did not want you to embarrass the family. Go home with a disgrace!"

Astagfirullah ... Mom guess what kind of woman am I? My mouth was half open ready to argue, but the third brother to stop me. Seeing my attitude of defiance, anger Mother increasingly unstoppable.

"Do not try to argue! Less well and learned what the Retno? Then Sumirah? Even children Hajj Tarjo? Go home, go home even so the women bitch! I do not want any son of a bitch!"

enough! I can not keep my patience any longer. Like my blood boil to hear the sentences Mother. If you had enough to know me, if only she had little confidence in her own son!?? Mother Just believe in himself. As if all people will have bad luck.

When Dad left! Yes, you are leaving us. His promise, that, he will return from the city by bringing changes in our destiny, just nonsense. There, you just get married again. And the mother who consider themselves perfectly as a woman, feeling hurt. After that all that smells of renewal and progress dimusuhinya all-out. Including my intention to town to seek knowledge.

I looked at my mother's eyes defiantly. My voice quivered as to speak to him. "Should Mom proud of me! Should Mother encouraged, not even kept teasing me, Mom! Now Diah know why Dad left Mom!" I said boldly.

In front of me, she looked into my eyes sharp. Her eyes filled with anger over kelancanganku. "Why did you leave your mother? Come answered, why?! Vain attempt mbak-mbakku else to put the brakes on my mouth. In anger, kulontarkan wounds that may be embedded forever in the hearts of my mother.

"Because Mother petty! That's why!" Kubanting door of my room and shut himself all night. Crying. I told myself happy, I say what I think should be heard Mom.

The next day, early morning, just say goodbye to the mbak-mbakku, I went, with chunks of wound in my heart. Perhaps also in the hearts of my mother. But, I do not care. As I know Laili and other Muslim friends. New I regret my behavior. I should not be brutal on the mother. No reply to rudeness with similar actions.

Even so, sorry I can not change who overdo hollow feeling toward my mother. I still do not like women who melahirkanku it. As he also did not like me.

"Diah ... She's awake." Mbak Sri touched my hand. Return me from the memories of the past.

I opened my mother's door. The voice sounded rusty hinges creaking. I saw my mother lying weakly on the couch. Keperkasaannya so far, I see almost nothing left. Bony hand me closer.

Under the oil lamp light, his face full of kurayapi strokes of age. Mom looked so old. "What are you Diah?" her voice barely a whisper. "Fine, Mom." I realize I sounded so flat. Perhaps representing the emptiness I feel.

Mother did not look surprised look, which definitely is a new scene for him. Or she was too ill to denounce the Moslem clothes that I wear? Once again, my cynical comment, without being able to be prevented. "You look kurusan Nduk!" She said after a while we were silent.

I do not respond. Instead, my eyes around the small room. Everything is almost unchanged. Why mother survive in this simplicity? Should not it be with the cattle - cattle that she is able to live more decent? Not to mention the three mbakku, impossible for them not to give additional feedback, even if slightly, to Mother.

I noticed the bed Mom. Thin mattress on a cot that definitely uncomfortable for him. The light was not adequate lighting. In fact, at my sister's house was lit by three electric light. Then ... routine kirimanku money although not how it should be fairly easy for Mom. But why?

I saw an old teak table beside her. There were several bottles of medicine there. The papers and some photos framed. I brought my body to see clearly. Suddenly my eyes blank ... society god! I was speechless. Soon I held myself as best he could to not cry.

Mothers who realize the vision explains, "Do not blame mbakmu Diah. The photographs are forcing Mother asked. Sometimes she looked, if she missed you. See, that's definitely when you were level one, huh? Not to wear hijab! The others are neatly veiled. "

I saw mother smiled. There is a deep longing in her eyes. I thought again shaken. Mother missed me? Is it true? What makes you so changed? Age tuanyakah? Period of five years did? My heart keeps asking questions. Where running a tough stand and snapped Mother? "Please Mother, child, mother wants to sit on the porch," she asked suddenly.

Kupapah ringkihnya body out. Above there the sky was getting dark. Some stars enliven the moon that began to emerge. Beautiful orange sky looks biased to welcome the night.

Side by side we sat on the porch. Some time passed in silence. Without the words, but I could see Mom's face was bright full moon staring at the sky decorated. Then ...

"Ning Ning ... ...." Mbakku hurriedly came to hear the call from Mom. "Dalem Bu ..."

"Please give my mother a wooden box under the bed, yes ..." Shortly Mbak Ning has appeared again. A wooden box that looks very old, handed it to Mother.

"Open Diah, that's for you. My mother was always afraid not have time to give it to you. Diah old mother," Mother's voice. His eyes were still staring at the sky.

Although not understand, kuturuti parents request it. And no can not help, both my eyes wide to see its contents. Money! Everywhere the money! So many, where she get it?

Mom chuckled myself saw surprise. Some are already missing teeth visible. "That's for you Diah .."

I closed the wooden box, I handed to my mother. "Diah not need the money my mother. A few years this has been working odd. Keep the shop while writing, writing," I tried to refuse.

"I know .. my mother read the letter sent to Ms.-mbakmu .. but it's your money. You membutuhkannnya. Perhaps no longer." Suara Ibu force. Ahh .. my graduation ... is that what she thinking?

"Graduation does not need to cost this much, Mom ...." I said again.

"But you have to accept it Diah, it's your money. The money is sent so far for my mother through mbakmu. Some there are also your privilege of selling cattle," explained the woman again.

I gape. Remembering an old couch that thin mattress, oil lamp, a chair in the living room that has been ugly and dull buffet. Would not the money that I can live more decent? 'Why did not she wear for Mother? "I asked, surprised. My mother just smiled. His eyes searched for a half-moon cloud.

"You do not need that much money, Diah! After all .. you've got concerns can no longer give money."

"Diah already explained to the mother, Diah was able to find the money to himself, yet a little bit. My mother did not have to bother thinking about me," I said stubbornly.

But, again Mother make me. "" You're going to need it Diah, for the wedding later. All mbakmu simple life. Their children a lot, may not be able to help a lot if that day comes! "

Deg! My heart was beating. For my wedding? As far as thinking about me is that Mom? The next Mother's words flowing like a cool lake niche - niche of my heart.

"Sorry Mom if during this hard on you Diah! You're right ... mother is petty! That's because Mother did not want you hurt. Mother did not want you to be disappointed. That's why Mother never praise. You must have a heart as hard as steel to tread life. I want Mother's youngest son became a different person. Like the pink moon, not a golden yellow as we usually see. " Mother pointed to a bright full moon. I followed his finger. I thought felt more fresh.

Pink moon ... is that what the mother wants, to be someone. Being a person in the truest sense. Got a different character and principle. Ready to sail hard all this time?

My heart blossomed. All the emptiness, hatred, and kekesalanku on the old woman suddenly flew into the clouds. I no longer hate him! Apparently I had enough sense in the eyes of my mother. I moon in her heart! Without hesitation, kepeluk mother tightly.

Together, we spent an unforgettable time on the porch staring at the sky, and ... pink moon is now in sight! ...
Judul: STORY The MOON IN EYES MOTHER | Musliem Stories; Ditulis oleh Hery IMG; Rating Blog: 5 dari 5

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