The waiting room

by Ponomariova_Maria

To the woman holding back her tears behind closed doors

To the ones squalling with fury and those who have yet to hold another stick that says: "It is a no."

A deep breath and a tight hug

To the ones waiting and those who, with all their hearts, are convinced it is time for a different plan, a pivot, or a full-stop
To the big-dark-eyed ones trying to look away as she spotted another woman's glow 
Here’s a smile that signs “I do that too.”

To those who've collected children's books for years hoping that someday, on a perfect day, she gets to read them together with someone she's been waiting for
someone small, all smiles, and smells so sweet, someone uniquely part of her and her loved one
A limerick and a song or two 

To all of you out there
I am here, shelving another hardcover classic and saying that I am thinking about you.

Sahabat Pena Maria

 

By Six Missing

Dari pelosok dusunnya di jalur khatulistiwa
Yang kenyang janji-janji penguasa
Yang listriknya dulu sekali pernah “byar” lalu “pet” lagi
Yang perjalanan ke sekolahnya harus menyebrangi kali
Maria menantikan sepeda ontel yang seharusnya,
saban lima pekan tiba

Ada beberapa surat untuk warga dan kalau beruntung, ada juga yang mendapat kiriman sekaleng biskuit dari kota

Biasanya dibawa si Bapak yang usianya tak lagi muda itu

"Mungkin sungainya meluap."
Mungkin sepedanya rusak."
"Atau kantor pos kembali rumbuh atapnya."
Tebak-tebak Nini’ yang mulai iba melihat penantian cucunya yang tak usai jua

“Harusnya Maryam sudah membalas suratku dari dua bulan lalu.” tukas Maria 
Teringat Ia isi surat pertama mereka yang mensukuri kemiripan nama keduanya
Maria dan Maryam
Pada susunan kalimat tak sempurna dalam bahasa yang keduanya sedang pelajari
Pada persahabatan yang dimulai dari kerabat dusun sebelah, yang bapaknya pernah dinas di luar negri

“Memang dari mana sahabat penamu yang ini?” Nini’ bertanya

“Nama negaranya Palestina, Ni’.” Maria menjawab seraya tetap menjurusi pandangannya ke ujung jalan

Nenek, yang buta huruf karena tak pernah ke sekolah sejak bangsa ini merdeka, 
mengangguk-angguk saja

Sudah kembali fokusnya menyalakan sumbu pelita
Supaya malamnya tak terlalu gulita

Bersama cucu kesayangan satu-satunya

(Oleh TBH- Januari 2024)

Surat dari Janda

 

Ilustrasi dari Google

Pertama-tama, jangan kau tunjukkan ke sembarang orang suratku ini. Nanti kau dihakimi. Aku hanya perlu sejenak bercerita. Namaku… sering terselip di bisikan para tetangga. Di antara tembok-tembok tipis pembatas dan tali jemuran rafia yang nyaris putus. Pasti pernah kau dengar sesekali. 

Aku juga sering disebut di berbagai kitab suci karena harus diberi belas kasihan, kalau perlu dinafkahi. Namaku yang kadang terasa getir ini kerap bersisian dengan si Endang, Jefta, Mira, dan Sari yang punya sebutan anak yatim. Namun, skenarionya cukup membuatku mengernyit.
 
Ini yang kudengar kemarin.
 
“Hati-hati, jaga suami kamu. Itu, tetanggamu yang baru, janda!” cibir ibu berambut merah di rumah nomor 2A. Ibu itu sepertinya tidak sempat membaca, para rasul di rumah ibadat mula-mula bahkan menyusun cara agar bisa membantu kaumku yang jadi materi gunjingan ini.

“Janda yang perlu dibantu yang tua saja!” kata teman si ibu rambut merah, saat ada yang mengusiknya soal hal tadi.
Kalau dia, tinggal di rumah 3C, warna hijau. Rumahnya yang hijau, bukan rambutnya. Jadi, mungkin, yang muda harus dihindari. Sepakat mereka.

Diberi label menyedihkan, dan sedikit taburan aura haram, apalagi kalau seorang janda cerai sepertiku.
 
Ada janda lain selain aku. Aminah, janda usia 25 yang buka usaha makanan.
Setelah lama menabung laba, dibelinya kalung emas sekian gram. Bagus emasnya itu. Aku pernah ditunjukkannya.
 
“Dikasih laki orang kali…,” kata salah satu mantan pelanggan yang berhenti karena takut suaminya kepincut jampi-jampi di makanan katering Aminah. Padahal, pakai mecin saja tidak si Aminah.
 
Di tengah gemerlap megapolitan, nasib Lina tak jauh berbeda. Kawanku dari kecil itu jatuh cinta pada rekan sekantor. Namun, cinta mereka cukup sampai kencan-kencan picisan. Karena si lelaki bujang. Orang tuanya tak suka kalau anak mereka dapat janda. Apalagi, buntutnya Lina sudah beranjak remaja.
 
Surat yang kau baca ini adalah untuk berbagi, bahwa buat kami, stigma terlanjur melekat.
Tidak ada yang sempat menanyakan cerita kami. Kamu juga tidak. Skenario hidup terlanjur jadi kudapan sedap. Tanpa ada yang merasa perlu sekadar berandai, apa alasan kami memilih nama ini.
 
Walau sebenarnya, bukan urusan siapa pun juga.
 
Akan tetapi, aku, Aminah, Linda sudah nyaris biasa. Telinga kami tak lagi panas saat mendengar guyonan macam itu. Mata kami tak lagi nanar saat membaca guratan di belakang truk lintas pulau, atau bahkan status media sosial.

Oh, pernah juga namaku muncul di lirik lagu dangdut modern, yang katanya, perempuan semacam aku ini tinggal di Pulo Gebang.
 Sesekali, panggilan ini jadi nama merek dagang, biasanya soto atau sop pinggir jalan.
Semoga laku. Doaku untuk mereka. Untukmu.
 
Doakan juga, supaya akan ada masanya nanti, usaha yang sedang kurintis, melahirkan perempuan-perempuan yang mampu berdiri sendiri. Tanpa risau akan gelar yang diberi masyarakat.
Lalu, anak-anakku lelaki dan perempuan akan tumbuh besar, mengambil peran supaya stigma tak lagi ada.
Jadi manusia penuh welas asih yang jatuh cinta pada hati, dan tak gemetar mundur karena status demikian.
Mungkin bisa jadi karib anakmu?
Besok, akan kuajak ibu berambut merah di 2A dan karibnya yang di rumah 3C untuk bersantap bersama. Sekadar saling bertukar cerita.
Kira-kira… kamu mau ikut?

Kusudahi dulu surat ini. Telinga harus kututup bantal sedikit. Karena tembok yang tipis, masih saja mengantarkan suara bisik-bisik yang membuat hati geli. Walau sedikit.

Kutunggu jawabanmu, ya. Soal makan-makan tadi.

 

 

 

 

Goodnight, Good boi- Mama

 

With our hearts still bleeding for our oldest one Mahoni, we bid an unexpected farewell to the Aslan of Rumah Kecil, Roy.

His health went downhill rapidly, and with three test results, we learned that he had stage IV Chronic Kidney Disease.

I spent days bawling thinking about how we could miss his symptoms and will probably never find comfort even tho we were told, some canines only show them at a much later stage.

If you’ve met him, you'll remember his penjor-like tail and stunning features. Oh, his smoldering eyes. We think he was Eurasian.

He spent his first two years on the street, in abusive homes, and dog meat trade. God's grace led him to our home in 2018.

I remember telling him: “I know it is difficult for you to trust this, but this is your last home. We will never move without you or abandon you on the street.”

Roy departed at home, on his bed in our room, just ten minutes after his loving Dad arrived.

He got what he was promised. A family.

Yovan and I are embracing the kind of grief that we never could have imagined.

This Christmas, we will seek a deeper meaning and connection with God, thanking Him for blessing us with the most unconditional love.

Lastly (but you know I’ll keep saying this), give stray dogs a chance. You will witness how amazing God is.

Good night, "good boi mama.", "roy-co papa."

You surely loved to make dramatic scenes.

Roy aka Aslan of Rumah Kecil Hutasoit Rondonuwu

- 8 years of purposeful life- 💔🌈♥️🖤🩵 #adoptionrocks

Forever in my heart

Here's an unpopular opinion about dogs: Not all puppies are cute. Mahoni certainly was not.

From the moment I found her on the street by the gutter, she had that fury in her eyes like she had seen something eerie or sad.

She was not playful and growled with her tiny voice like she owned her space.

But I've met my match. I was not in a good place that year. That very first night, she slept on my belly like she belonged. We said to each other "Finally, you're here"

Her name was "Si Kaus Kaki" or Socky at first. I was applying for a mortgage on Mahoni Street, and I promised to bestow her with the street name if I got the house. We all know the end to that promise.

Over the years, she's been protecting our home from snakes, monitor lizards, monkeys, and even red-flagged homo sapiens (yep, toxic relationships). It was only my sister Maharani that Mahoni softened up to pretty quickly.

She emphasized she was the boss whenever we had a new rescue dog by not allowing them to come to me first, always eating at a higher spot (chair or table), and standing against my back whenever I did some house chores. She did not shy away from playing favorites as she only grooms her closest and oldest sister, Marilyn.

Whenever Marilyn had an episode (seizure), Mahoni would sit next to us, to steer our other dogs from coming closer.

When Mahoni met Yovan, she let her guard down in the most vulnerable way. There is not enough space here on IG to share how much that means to me, but I can tell you that it was so relieving for me.

When her diagnosis came, the vet said a dog like Mahoni could be so strong-willed in hiding her frailness. She kept trying to look strong whenever I was in the exam room. We tried everything to heal her, but God says her trip was done.

I am faithful to be ready for this next chapter that does not have her. 11 years may seem long, but not when it's your dog.

With a void that resonates with frail tunes, I know my heart will never be the same. But I would not have it any other way.

This grief is worth enduring.

Thank you for 11 years of blessings and a lifetime of missing you, Kakak Mahoni. You've made a Mama out of me. 🖤♥️💔🌈

#adoptionrocks

On Wars

They want us to keep bringing life into this world.

But how could we let the sound of gunfire be the one that breaks our children's hearing?

They want us to raise a generation
But they silence our trembling voice when it does not fit their agenda; that is to let the sound of gunfire be the one that breaks our children's hearing

TBH-October 2023

Please hug or hold the hands of someone you love today because tomorrow is never promised 💔 

The (re)birth of feminism

 

This is not a pregnancy announcement post.

It is, however, an attempt to evoke the dilation of a giant rebirth called Feminism.

Over the last ten years, I've written stories and poems circling one significant theme. A theme that speaks of the uterus and uses the word vagina sans apologetic nuance.

The theme is sewed in a satirical tone and with mostly dark endings, if not left undone.

A dear friend once asked if I would write different stories after I re-marry. This question, I believe, is based on one general assumption. That feminists are all mad.

Yes. We all are.

Not many realize this anger comes from tragic stories; death over what we wear (and do not); abuse simply because we say no (and when we say yes); voices kept shut (because, really, who would believe her story?); doors to education slammed (if we're lucky enough not being shot in the head); and ways for justice remain dark.

But we are also hopeful. At least, I am.

Me marrying the man I love does not change my mind about what I advocate. If anything, it fuels it.

Feminism allows a bond to be vulnerable and brave about making decisions and after one's dream.

Being comfortable telling your partner that you do not want to go for a round of IVF or to tell them you're broke and need them to support you for a while.

To confidently tell them you want both last names to be part of your child's, to take turns being gentle or firm.

But those are only the small things.

There's a reason why Gender Equality is UNSDG #5.

From a bigger perspective, Feminism force is thriving towards the well-being of a family, society, country, and even the world.

Fewer would give in to child marriage, many stomping for better education, malnutrition would end, and wage parity would deliver stability to all stakeholders.

And perhaps we could all sleep better at night.

As Merriam Webster dictionary states, Feminism; is a belief in and advocacy of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes expressed through organized activity on behalf of women's rights.

Simple, but the road is long.

Now take a deep breath, world.

We are about to give birth ❤⭐