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That night, in their rooms, Arman waiting on his wife with a questioning look. His eyes were demanding an explanation. As a husband - a predicate that has been assumed for many years - he was sensitive enough to be able to feel, Alia did not actually require the presence of his own father in their home. Iklan Internet Murah Efektif Berkualitas Indonesia After three days had passed, felt the presence of the old man has absorbed all the warmth of the atmosphere that was always coloring their homes before the coming Day holiday. He knew who the real root cause of the change. Not the old man, but Alia, his own wife.

"Tell me everything, Alia, tell me," Arman asked softly, hugging his wife.
Alia closed his eyes. I might choose, he would like to remain silent and try to bury the memories of the past. Her face was heavy. How difficult it was to remove the bad memories. Alia looked at his face. Of eyes Arman, Alia knew her husband did not want to argue this time.

Widths. Soil may be wet. The air may be damp. Wind squeezed in between the leaves of autumn. Gray clouds. The sun hidden behind it. Suddenly the rain soaked earth diligent. The city becomes wet. Constantly wet. Also the streets and the yard. People rushed to avoid it. Brown tiles on the houses that grow close together, changed the color to be older than usual.

Widths. The smell of wet grass and leaves. On the page. In city parks. That's the luxury of its own in the metropolitan life that is familiar with the dust and pollution. Yes, there's no excuse for not loving the day the holiday. Istirah moment when the earth and the sun was more friendly. Yes, yes, not just the sun. Because people are also looking more friendly than usual. There's a smile on his lips. In the eyes. In the liver. Yes, this is the day of the holiday. On the day of Fitr, the sky may be gray, but not your heart. It's an unwritten law that every person should be believed as a pure day came. As far Alia believe. Quietly.

But not this time. Due to ghost from the past it has come. Gray in the corridor of the past came back and ready to sink it. Though he has long tried to erase that image vanished from his heart. The effort was futile, as futile to try to prevent the sun rises from the east. Yes, every person has a past that is remembered may be too bitter to return. Alia believe, there is always a secret room in your heart, where could you store all your grief story, and locked it tight because you're reluctant to share it with others. Or you do not want the story suddenly slid out of your mouth. In my heart you wish time could heal the wounds of the silammu. But it was not easy. Because of the time appeared to have wounds and grief alone.

Secretly, her mind flashed back at the events a few days ago. Drizzling rain and wet earth as it speeds up the opening back wounds. At that time an old man suddenly has stood in the doorway of his home. Alia overlook. Game online However, he could still recognize the contours of the old man's face meetings stored in his heart.

"Father?" His voice gasped and seemed giddy.
Ah, how quickly the years running. Over 30 years already, since last he met the old man.

"Who, Alia?" Arman came and stood behind him, were looked at with a view to ask guests who came uninvited. There was a pause. Only the sound of rain is fun to dance on the pale brown tile. Among the leaves of plants to decorate the page.

Alia was still stunned, not knowing what to say. The old man, in a low voice, introduced himself to Arman. With Sebat Arman's parents invited into their homes.

That is, three days had passed since his father's presence is so sudden in their homes. Three grueling days at the same time painful. Because Alia - without wanted - was forced to recall the wounds of the silamnya life. He had to admit bitterly: all the story to his family during this lie!

Alia's childhood was not so bad. It can not be compared with the children now who are familiar with a variety of electronic games and computers. However, still not a bad childhood. Instead he felt his childhood more colorful than the kids right now. He can enjoy reasonably with friends in his village. Playing in the moonlight, making your own game, or running around in the river chasing dragonflies are flying. Alia also quite proud little father had fought during the revolution had thus obtaining a guerrilla star made of bronze. His father always flaunt it with pride guerrilla star to him.

Circumstances change before Alia complete primary school. Small Alia certainly do not understand about the economic crisis and political crisis that occurred in the country at that time, in the 1960s. All he knew was, food and clothing increasingly difficult to obtain. His favorite types of food commonly served his mother disappeared from the table. In fact there are people starving to death in his village. The more fortunate as the undead haunt swollen-bellied malnutrition.

Faintly, came the news that the communists tried to revolt and seize power. In Jakarta, the killing of several army generals. Although not understood, little Alia aware, there is something frightening to master the vicinity. Kata kata mutiara Her father was more often attend public meetings and rarely came home. Tougher stance against anyone. Even against his own family.

"My dear, all that happened over 30 years ago. Many people suffer because of political infighting that time, not just your family," Arman interrupting her story. He tried to comfort Alia that tears began to tell of the past when his family.

Alia was silent for a moment and clear his eyes are misty. Inner justify what was said Arman. Politics? Ah, who does not know. Politics is not only able to change the face of a country. Politics is also able to penetrate the recesses of private life, to change one's life journey, a family. And destroy it Iklan.