Author: Anggun

I have always liked the night scenery on this backyard, but this is the first time I visit it in the morning and it is equally breathtaking. If the night brought me some sort of serenity, the morning just brought me some unbelievable amount of joy. I used to think that I would only go here if I am sad, turns out my life also has something wonderful to offer.

I did some gardening today and thanks to today’s bright and warm sunlight, I found out that there is a beautiful lake behind the backyard fence and the park next to it was filled with the nicest neighbors I have ever met. There was some music playing in the background as everyone danced to the rhythm. I don’t normally like parties, but I wished I was invited to this one. I climbed the fence and said a few hellos, but rather than chimed in to the conversations, I sat on the opposite side of the lake and smiled the entire time.

“… I’d rather waltz than just walk through the forest, the trees keep the tempo and they sway in time. Quartet of crickets chime in for the chorus, if I were to pluck on your heartstrings, would you strum on mine?”

When I was five, my mother used to sit us (me and my brother) down in an open door on the back of our house. With a perfect combination of a calm and windy night, she told us stories about tons of inspiring people for us to learned from. I don’t know if I still can remember any of those stories correctly, but those nights always reminded me of what a home should feel like. That is why I always imagining my future home comes with a tiny backyard for me to run away to.

Today I moved into this imaginary lot in my head and I brought a few boxes of memories with me. As I unpacked those boxes, I started hanging some pictures on the wall. Most of them are old, but I got a few recent ones which I loved the most. The pictures were all in colors and have different backgrounds, but everyone in each of them are either laughing or smiling.  “A picture speaks a thousand words” as people said, but these pictures around me are screaming a word of happiness.

After I am finished with the pictures, I took a bundle of papers out of the box. Some of them were a few chapters of stories I once wrote, a tiny portion of them were music notes of songs with the most beautiful lyrics anyone had ever written, and the last part of the bundle was a stack of most thoughtful letters that people ever sent to me. This bundle of meaningless paper was somewhat more important to me than money, since I managed to forget that I would need a couple thousand of bucks to start building this place from scratch.

I opened the back door that connect the house to my new favorite backyard. The backyard was abandoned since no one lived here for quite several years, but as I started scribbling down narratives to its wall, the old and rusty colors start to melt away.

Today I decided to packed up some things and moved to another lot. The last several weeks had been awful and I would like to distance myself from things I am too attached to. I know that growing up is all about getting myself adjusted to the change life has to offer, but sometimes the taste of life is too sour, so I choose to ran away. As much as I like to embrace the changes, I wasn’t ready to face the reality. As much as I love the house I lived in, it no longer brings the joy out of everyone.

By then, I started collecting clues, names, places, sounds and narratives that feel closest to my dearest home that no longer exist. I burned papers and stories I hang on to that no longer make sense. I took a couple of boxes of letters, pictures, and some other small things I wished to kept. This time, my home wouldn’t be touched by the vicious act of time.

As I take each and every box of memories out of this haunted house, I turn the lights off and say goodbye to every scream, laughter, and silence that once lived in this very spot. I closed and locked the door for one last time. I take a few steps back, say one last goodbye and finally get myself into the taxi.

“… He built me a house in the arms of a tree. He taught me to drive, and to fight, and to dream. When he looks in my eyes, I hope he can see that my dad’s a hero to me.”

I forgot when was the last time I cried my heart out. To tell you the truth, I am not sure I ever did. Sour as it was, I saw a reflection of mine standing on a corner of the most unfamiliar room we have ever been in, imagining words that could possibly beat up the strongest person we looked up to.

Cruel as it was, I closed my eyes as she kept sweeping off the finger through pages on her hands and let me take the fall. I swear I bawled my eyes out, but why didn’t she cry? I never know what was on her mind, but I begged everyone to stop her.