hujan deres bow

Rainy evening

5.43 pm
It’s raining outside, heavily. I love when it rains, reminds me to my life. I remembered how it was when I was 3 (or 2.5) years old, in yellow skirt, sat on a rattan chair at our terrace, all alone. Papa was at the field, mama was working, she ran her own company on that time. Hmmmm I should be with my nanny then….bloody hell (forgive my language)…my nanny is not the one I want to tell about now. I barely remember her…it would be another story about the nannies.

I was sitting all alone. I still remember clearly how it was, the feeling on that moment. How amazed I was with the rains. There were thunders and lightning, then the sky was clear, and birds were singing. On that time, for the first time in my life, I understood that rain will wash my pain away. There is nothing to be afraid of, I might cry. I might be hurt. I might be scared…but I knew there is something…bigger than the biggest one (hmmm how should I explain something is bigger than the biggest one?) who will always be with me, washes my tears away. No matter how stormy my days would be, still there would be hopes. (I know, it would be difficult for some people believing that I remember part of my pre 5 memories—was questioned about it before)

My second memory about the rain is when I was at kindergarten. I was in the classroom, bored with those itchy witchy hanky panky kiddo stuffs….why should I have to learn how to spell? A…b…c..while I was able to read Tempo, Kompas, Donald Duck….(actually until now…I don’t understand why mama sent me to that class for 3 years, while she knew exactly I was able to go to elementary school—she was the one who taught me how to read and count). I remembered how it was on that day, raining heavily. I was toying with my mind, my religious teacher told me that each rain drop was delivered by an angel…gulp how many million angels then…. And again, I felt relaxed and peace.

There was a stormy day when I was on the 6th grade. It was during an exam, I had finished all the questions, and mama told me to stay in the class even though I had done my work (I was such a good girl…did what mama asked me to). I was amazed by the storm. It was awesome…rains dropped on the ground…washed the dirt away.

It was raining when papa passed away, deep inside I was crying too (I couldn’t cry on that time. It was only me there…and mama was crying). I was in black, took a lead on my dad’s funeral. Pretending as if I were tough, but I knew there’s a huge black hole in my heart. I didn’t (ok…and still don’t) know how to heal the pain since he’s gone. (May he rest in peace)

On my trip to Bangkok almost two years ago…it was raining, stormy day. Again, there was a rainbow, just before we landed smoothly at Bangkok International Airport. I knew that the Almighty One was with me, and would always be with me.

Again and again…rains mean hope for me, and I have many memories on it, popping one by one now. Rain…washes my tears away. No more pain, no more sorrows. For years I had believed it. Indeed rain washes my tears away, but I still miss my papa.