Posted in Writing 101

Day Nineteen: Don’t Stop the Rockin’


Today is free writing day. No self-editing, no trash-talking, and no second guessing, just go.


 

I will try it!

Never Late to Learn! It is my motto in learning. I am an old lady! Indeed! But, I want to learn and to improve my writing. To be honest, I loved writing since I was a child. I got my first lesson about writing from my great father. He had good skill in handwriting, so he taught me about it first. The second step, he gave me many books, and I couldn’t read those books. I only saw its pictures within the books. Since that time, I fell in love in reading and drawing. Alhamdulillah, I got all from my Dad. He was amazing Dad for me!

The next step, I got my handwriting skill from my teacher in the first grade. I write, write and write every day. By reading and writing, I could get much knowledge. I loved reading and writing a lot. I used Bahasa Indonesia in the first time. Someone who has suggested me to learn English was my mother. She isn’t an English teacher. She gave me a simple English book. It was about vocabularies and very simple grammar. My Mom advised me to memorize English words 5 words each day. Since that, I loved English too. But, I admit, my English isn’t good enough.

I used English only at my schools, I had never used it at home. I didn’t have friends to practice it. Luckily, I could practice my English and my Arabic effectively in Islamic Boarding School. I had many friends there. The important thing we practiced both every day.  We didn’t use grammar in our speaking. I brought a dictionary pocket to everywhere. Just practice in speaking.

After finished my study there, I didn’t practice them for 12 years. I had forgotten a lot both English and Arabic. Alhamdulillah, I can learn and practice my English and my writing skill in my virtual home WordPress. It’s a good chance for me to improve all. I have to say, I get many advantages by doing blogging and following writing 101. I can feel it! I have gotten amazing English teachers, beautiful friendship, and wonderful suggestions from fellow bloggers. Masha’Allah, It was amazing! I don’t have any reasons to leave WordPress and my writing activity. I’d love to say, keep blogging and happy writing!

Many thanks to everyone who has taught me here! You’re beautiful! I love You all! ❤

 

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Posted in Writing 101

Day Eighteen: Hone a Point of View


The neighbourhood has seen better days, but Mrs. Pauley has lived there since before anyone can remember. She raised a family of six boys, who’ve all grown up and moved away. Since Mr. Pauley died three months ago, she’d had no income. She’s fallen behind in the rent. The landlord, accompanied by the police, have come to evict Mrs. Pauley from the house she’s lived in for forty years.

Today’s prompt: write this story in first person, told by the twelve-year-old sitting on the stoop across the street.

Today’s twist: For those of you who want an extra challenge, think about more than simply writing in first-person point of view — build this twelve-year-old as a character.


 

This time, I will not follow the prompt. I want to try to write other story. When I thought about that prompt, the movie “UP” always comes to my mind. So, I avoid to duplicate it.

***

“I am free now!”

I just finished my homework. I always get the homework every day. School is like a prison for me. Truly! I don’t understand why the teachers liked to give us much homework. I think, they don’t understand our hobby. Our hobbies are playing, playing then playing.

My Mom always says to me and advises me to study hard to get my dream. My dream is only playing. I don’t have other. I don’t want to be a business man who has much money and drives to everywhere with his cars. They are arrogant. They don’t care to poor men.

My Dad is same too. He always asks me to follow many activities at my school to improve my talents. I was asked to follow English course, piano course, and calligraphy course and so on. School is like a prison for me. Really!

I have two elder brothers. Their names are Hasan and Husein. They are bookworm. They have same hobbies. Their hobbies are reading books, writing, discussion, observation and debate. These activities will make me bored. So, school is like big prison, if my parents wanted me to follow my elder brothers.

I have ever protested to my parents that I don’t like to follow piano and English course. Playing piano is very difficult, and English is hard to learn. In English, reading and writing the words are very different. I only like to learn calligraphy. But, my parents haven’t approved my protest. My Dad asked me to play a piano, because he is a national pianist, and my Mom asked me to follow English course, because she is an English teacher. They don’t understand me.

If you ask me about my hobby, so my primary hobby is playing, and my other hobby is writing calligraphy. My brother Hasan said to me that I got my talent from my grandfather. I don’t believe in him, from whom he knew that?

I always ask to myself, when I can do everything according my wish? My parents always stir me, to do what they want. I want to get my freedom! I want to fly like birds! I want to get out from my prison. But, my parents will not understand me! They are discipline parents.

I almost forget about one thing. It is about my dream. My parents often ask me about that. To be honest, I want to be a teacher, a good teacher who cares to all students. I will invite my students to play together with me at class. It’d be interesting. I will not give them homework. Because I hate it!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Writing 101

Day Seventeen: Your Personality on the Page


Today’s Prompt: We all have anxieties, worries, and fears. What are you scared of? Address one of your worst fears.

Today’s Twist: Write this post in a style distinct from your own.

Earlier in Writing 101, we talked about voice: that elusive element that sets you apart from every other writer out there. Style, however, is different. Your writing style might affect your voice, but ultimately style and voice aren’t the same thing. While your voice is your own, and something that’s innately you, style is much broader.


cutespider2

If you see my picture above, you’ll understand what I am scared of. I am scared of spider and cockroach. So, I put a cute spider for my picture. LOL! When I searched its picture on Google, I couldn’t see them for long time, I was shuddered. I imagined, if those spiders jumped from my screen PC to my keyboard then say hello to me, he…he. (I felt crazy!)

I had horror experiences about spiders and cockroaches. I’m scared of spider, because he has eight feet. Am I right to count its feet? So does a cockroach.

I had ever fought them many times and even killed them. It was not my intention to kill them, I just defended myself. Really!

When my dad still alive, he usually says to me, “spider and cockroach are smaller than you, how could you are scared of them? You can catch and kill them if you wish.” My dad was right, but I can’t remove my fear of these animals.

Do you want to know my fight with them? Here, I will share one of mine with you!

One day, in my last house, I swept the floor. Only my son and I who stayed at home, the other had gone to work. When I wanted to throw the trash into rubbish tin, suddenly I saw a spider walked toward me. I was astounding to see that. I threw the rubbish irregularly. I screamed to ask help, “Look at, there is a spider! Be careful!”

My son came close to me and asked, “Where is he?” He took a stick to beat a spider. He wanted to help me. I was shy of him. He wasn’t scared of it.

“In there! Be careful, dear! This spider is big, I don’t want to see him.”

“We can kill him, Mom! Come on, we work together!” My son suggested me.

“Oh, okay! Give me your stick!”

“Can you kill him, Mom?” My son asked me again. He had doubt about me.

“I am not sure, ha…ha! But, you have given me power!”

We fought against the spider. A small animal! I held a broom, while my son held a stick.

But, when a spider entered in to house, we ran. LOL!

“Mom, why do you run?”

“I am shy!” I laughed loudly. My son laughed too.

“You’re funny, Mom!”

“Let’s beat and kill him, Mom!”

“Wait! I need to take rest first!” I took a deep breath. A few minutes later, I saw a spider walked and hid under a machine hemming. I concentrated to beat him with a rubber ring. My shoot was failed. I tried again. I used a broom. To be honest, I didn’t want to kill him, but I didn’t want to see this animal in my house.

When I beat him, he didn’t move. I was confused, how to check it.

“I think he is died!” My son walked to see a spider.

“I’m not sure, dear. Be careful okay! Just wait, we can know after a few minutes!”

A short time later, I saw the ants around spider.

“Oh, I did beat him! Can you see those ants! We did, dear!”

My son smiled at me and yelled out, “YES, WE WIN!”

“Alhamdulillah, we win! I’m sorry Mister Spider, it wasn’t my intention! Forgive me please!”

Kaka laughed to hear that. Alhamdulillah, Kaka isn’t scared anything. I had ever said to him when he was one, “Kaka, look at that cute spider! Catch him!”

Since that, he will fight to catch the spiders and cockroach. But, I am not like him. I am still scared of these two animals. Wait, I’ll correct my words, I AM SHY OF THEM!  😀

Note: Talking about spider, Allah has taken it as example of those who take allies other than Allah. The Muslims can find about it in Surah Al-Ankabut (The Spider), verse 41;

“The example of those who take allies other than Allah is like that of the spider who takes a home. And indeed, the weakest of homes is the home of the spider, if they only knew.”

Posted in Writing 101

Day Sixteen: Third Time’s the Charm


Today’s Prompt: Imagine you had a job in which you had to sift through forgotten or lost belongings. Describe a day in which you come upon something peculiar, or tell a story about something interesting you find in a pile.

On day four, you wrote about losing something. On day thirteen, you then wrote about finding something. So, today’s twist: If you’d like to continue our serial challenge, also reflect on the theme of lost and found more generally in this post.


 

Part 1 & 2:  Serially Lost, Serially Found

Part 3:

al-ashr

I have many experiences about losing and found something. Losing phones, uniforms, money, ring, even losing my dad.

I lost much times in my life. I can’t believe it, I am 36 now.  I used 17 years for schooling. (I began to study at school at 7 years old), 6 years for my job, Where was my 6 years? How many hours I used for worshipping my Creator? Only five minutes for every prayer. How many hours I used for sleeping, for blogging, for learning and for my family?

Losing phones, uniforms and property, Alhamdulillah I could buy other.

Losing money, I could find it by working.

Losing my dad, (it was a great losing), I can’t find the change of him, but I can pray for him.

Losing my times for something bad, I can’t take back my times. They had gone and will never back to me. So, time is very valuable thing in my life and other lives, I think.

How many hours those I need to find the idea to write it and convert it becomes post? That was why I try to do everything for Allah’s pleasure. I try to write something beneficial for me especially before sharing it to other. (I do struggle hard with my intention)

I remembered the Surah al-Asr :1-3

By time. (1) Indeed, mankind is in loss. (2) Except for those who have believed and done righteous deeds and advised each other to truth and advised each other to patience.(3)

Indeed, I have lost my times, and now I find a great guidance about time.

Posted in Writing 101

Writing 101, Day Fourteen: To Whom It May Concern


Today’s Prompt: Pick up the nearest book and flip to page 29. What’s the first word that jumps off the page? Use this word as your springboard for inspiration. If you need a boost, Google the word and see what images appear, and then go from there.

Today’s twist: write the post in the form of a letter.

 

Today’s prompt was very funny. There were 4 books on my computer desk, grammar book, a book of Qur’an classification, Islamic book and my notebook. I chose Islamic book, and I got the word “Satan.”  😀

It was the first time I wrote a letter to Satan. LOL! The first and the last!

 


 

To: Satan (The Clear Enemy For The Mankind)

I seek refuge in Allah from Satan the accursed one.

I will not say Salam (greeting) to you. I only wanted to say, YOU ARE MY ENEMY, in this life.

Allah has explained about you in Qur’an clearly;

And thus We have made for every prophet an enemy – devils from mankind and jinn, inspiring to one another decorative speech in delusion. But, if your Lord had willed, they would not have done it, so leave them and that which they invent. [Al-An’am:112]

And Satan will say when the matter has been concluded, “Indeed, Allah had promised you the promise of truth. And I promised you, but I betrayed you. But, I had no authority over you except that I invited you, and you responded to me. So do not blame me; but blame yourselves. I cannot be called to my aid. Indeed, I deny your association of me [with Allah] before. Indeed, for the wrongdoers is a painful punishment. [Ibrahim:22]

Did I not enjoin upon you, O children of Adam, that you not worship Satan- [for] indeed, he is to you a clear enemy. [Ya-Sin: 60]

My Lord, I seek refuge in You from the incitements of the devils,

And I seek refuge in You, my Lord, lest they be present with me! (Al-Mu’minun:97-98)

 

Sorry, Satan! I don’t have much time to write this letter to you!

 

Servant of Allah.

Posted in Writing 101

Day Thirteen: Serially Found


On day four, you wrote a post about losing something. Today’s Prompt: write about finding something.

Today’s twist: if you wrote day four’s post as the first in a series, use this one as the second installment — loosely defined.


When I read the prompt in my mailbox, I was so confused. Why? I have to combine my first story about serially lost and now part 2 about serially found. I made a little mistake in part 1, I didn’t complete my lost story. I thought all of parts were about serially lost. And my guess was wrong. It was really a challenge!  🙂

Here is the part 1: Serially Lost.

Part 2:

In the morning we took him to hospital for getting treatment. He got it for a week. But, his health wasn’t better, it was worse and worst. We took him to the hospital for the second time. He lied in a coma for 16 hours. On August 9, 2014, he returned to his creator, Allah Subhanahu Wa ta’ala. It was the first time we lost a member of family. We were very sad. We knew it was a test for us, and it was the best for him. Allah loved him. Indeed we belong to Allah, and indeed to Him we will return.

I played slide of my life. I recalled the memories when I lived with my dad. I did remember all parts of this slide, especially in Ramadhan 1435 H. It was his last Ramadhan. I found some peculiarities of him. One day, he complained about his fasting. He felt weak. And he broke his fasting in that day. During that Ramadhan he broke fast for 8 days. Alhamdulillah, we had paid his fast.

The other things, I found that he avoided his books and his writing activity. When he was alive, he usually becomes Imam (a leader of prayer) in our Masjid (mosque) and imam for Friday’s prayer. I saw the sign from his eyes. There wasn’t hope anymore like a candle that has lost its fire.  When I asked him, he answered shortly. I often see him is crying. It was really strange. I had never seen him like that before. I knew he was a brave and a strong man. But, in the end of his life, I found the weakness of his physic.

We love you Dad!

 

In the day of his death, the people came to his burial, prayed for him. Masha’Allah! They accompanied and consoled us. They helped us with their wealth, powers and prayers!

Our imam (a leader of Islam community) advised us. Indeed, the people and I got a great message from him. He said, “Today, our good brother returned to Allah. Do we get a lesson from it? He has not chance to worship to Allah, his life has ended. He is starting his new life. He needs a lot of prayers from us, from his family and his friends. All of us will be like him, return to Allah, but we don’t know the times of our death. What should we do now? Right now, we must help our brother with our prayers, and then we have to continue to worship Allah alone, and do many good deeds to face our eternal lives. Our prophet has said that death is the best lesson for us. Let’s pray together!”

I found golden precept, loves, cares, helps in that sad moment. I didn’t find money or gold on the path, but I found many valuable things.

To be continued….

I don’t know the topic for part 3.  😀

Posted in Writing 101

Day Twelve: Dark Clouds on the (Virtual) Horizon


Today’s Prompt: Write a post inspired by a real-world conversation.

Take time to listen-to what you hear around you, or what your memories stir up.

Today’s twist: include an element of foreshadowing in the beginning of your post.


(Actually, I don’t understand yet about foreshadowing. I’d love to hear your correction!)

16 years ago, in Language Court, Islamic Boarding School.

It was a dark night. The doors of the boarding school had been closed by care takers. There weren’t activities. The time was for rest. But, I was not in my room in that time.

I sat outside Language Court. There were a few students from other classes who were called to come to court. I was nervous and panicked. I didn’t know what will happen to me. What punishment that I’d get from the Language Court.

It was such a nightmare. The room of court was dark. They only used a candle to add horror of the room.

Ah, I was so stupid, I did break the language rule this morning.

I took deep breath, trying to control myself. I was really afraid to imagine the punishment. Friends told me, the punishment from language court was the hardest than other section.

After 30 minutes, they called me. I entered the room alone. They were three judges inside.

“Eva, class 3 Intensive B, from West Java, right?”

They mentioned my identity. I only nodded.

“Sister, do you know your mistake?” One of them asked my mistake.

“No.”  I didn’t answer correctly, because I wanted to know about my mistake from them.

“How could you don’t know your mistake? It’s a language court, so your mistake was about language.”

“I didn’t speak Indonesian language, Sister.”

“Yes, you didn’t, but you were absent in Morning conversation, correct?”

I admitted my mistake. I waited the punishment. I felt the night was very cold. It was really a nightmare. I had never broken the school rules before.

“Sister! We have known about you. We will tell you something. The senior teachers and senior students have nominated you as one of candidate chief for the future, two years later. So, why you did this stupid act?”

Whaaat? They have chosen me as a candidate chief. Am I dreaming?

“Truthfully, I was getting stomach ache, that was why I was absent. I forgot to tell it to my supervisor. I will never repeat this mistake.” I tried to give the reason.

“We got you! You’re well known as a discipline student, we didn’t believe that you have broken the rule till we see you here, in this court.”

“Okay, sister! Your punishment is, you must ask the signatures of your class teacher, your room supervisor, the chief of language court and complete it with our signatures. You must collect it to us before 08.00 pm tomorrow. Can you do it?” I listened to their explanation. It was not difficult.

“I can, insha’Allah.”

“Good! Please keep in your mind, we don’t want to see your face here for the second time. So, obey all the rules. We trust you, you’ll get success in your study here!”

I left the court. I walked in to my room. I was thinking about my conversation with the judges of language. It was interesting experience for me. In my opinion, the language court was not chilling. It was a nice place for discussion, I thought.

Posted in Writing 101

Writing 101, Day Eleven: Size Matters (In Sentences, that is)


Today’s prompt: Where did you live when you were 12 years old?

Which town, city, and country? Was it a house or an apartment? A boarding school or foster home?  An airstream or an RV? Who lived there with you?

Today’s twist: pay attention to your sentence lengths and use short, medium, and long sentences as you compose your response about the home you lived in when you were twelve.


 

So, I have to transform and to imagine my childhood. Wow, it’d be interesting!

Writing with long sentences will be easy if I write it in my own language, and it’s a challenge for me when I use English for it.  I still can’t feel the beautiful of English, I can’t find its rhythm. Let me try it!

I’m a little Eva, now! LOL

Twenty four years ago, I was a cute and active girl. 😀 I lived with my parents and my younger brother at small village, Salakopi – Sukabumi in West Java. My Mother was still young, she was 30, and my father was 39. My younger sister wasn’t born yet. She was born in 1994.

Living at village in that time was quite simple. There weren’t hand phone, computer, internet and modern technology. Our lives were simple enough. My great grand parents had ever told us that someday, 10 years or might 15 years later, life will be changed fast. We will manage and control everything only by our fingers.

(Their great prediction becomes true! Unfortunately, they can’t see our lives today! They had passed away!)

My parents bought a house when I was a baby, I didn’t remember about it. But I did remember my childhood from age 3. Our house was so small, but I lived and spent my childhood there happily. I could imagine our house and its parts. I loved this place. A place where we could give and got loves.

My parents always say and advice us, “Our house is very small, but we can share loves and happiness within, we can enlighten our house by reading Qur’an. It’s the important thing in our lives, when we return to Allah, we only need land for our graves, right?”

We lived around our big family. So my neighbors were my family. Since I was 19, my parents sold our first house for some reasons. It’s part B of this story.

As a child, my main hobby was playing, playing and playing. I didn’t think about my school seriously. I was a student the last grade of Public Elementary School. I needed 10 minutes  to come to my school. I went to school then back to home. After schooling, I spent my times for playing. Playing hide and seek, it was my favorite activity. I had ever gone fishing with my friends to the river. We used bamboo for it. It was very fun, because I did catch a fish. So many memories I had made in this age. I rare stay at home, because I was an active girl.  Playing with my family and other friends was fun!

I loved my childhood! I can’t believe it, I’m adult now!  🙂

 

 

 

Posted in Writing 101

Day Ten: My Favorite Childhood Meal!


Today’s Prompt: Tell us something about your favorite childhood meal — the one that was always a treat, that meant “celebration,” or that comforted you and has deep roots in your memory.

Free free to focus on any aspect of the meal, from the food you ate to the people who were there to the event it marked.

Today’s twist: Tell the story in your own distinct voice.

You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.

– Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

The biggest thing that separates you from every other blogger in the world is your voice. Finding (and being confident in) our voices is one of the biggest challenges in writing, and it’s easy to lose our voices when we’re worried about being liked by everyone, or when we compare ourselves to others.

Write today’s post as if you’re relaying the story to your best friend over a cup of coffee (or glass of wine — your call). Don’t worry if it feels like you ramble a bit, or a four-letter-word sneaks in, or it feels different from what you usually publish. Maybe you normally speak more formally — that’s fine, too. Take a deep breath, tell the story in your own words, and send it out the virtual door.


I really love this prompt!  ❤

My friends, if you ask me about my favorite childhood meal, so here it is!

Tumpeng
Tumpeng

I loved to eat tumpeng! Do you know tumpeng? Tumpeng is a name of food, it is made from rice. Its process has some steps to make delicious tumpeng.

Why I choose tumpeng as my favorite childhood meal, because my parents often cook it to celebrate the important moments in our lives. When I was child, I still remember, to celebrate and to encourage me in reading Qur’an, my parents cooked tumpeng and share it to our neighbors.

Oh yes, when I studied at Elementary school in the fourth grade, our teacher held competition to cook tumpeng. Of course we didn’t cook it by ourselves, my parents helped us to make it, and………..finally we won the competition.  LOL!!  We got many books as its prize. Yes! Tumpeng yes!!   LOL

I had many interesting moments about tumpeng.

When we finished reading Iqra’ and Qur’an, we made tumpeng,

When we completed the house, we made tumpeng,

Tumpeng, tumpeng………….and tumpeng!

Now, I know why they did it to me and to my siblings. They wanted to appreciate our efforts in learning Qur’an. I was happy with that. Yeah, who doesn’t want to eat special food in our special moments?

But, now I rare to eat it, I don’t know the reason, perhaps we aren’t children again, he….he.

I missed to eat Tumpeng!

Let’s eat tumpeng together! Hem….yum..yum…yummy!

Do you want to try to eat it?

Posted in Writing 101

Day Nine: Point of View


Today’s Prompt: A man and a woman walk through the park together, holding hands. They pass an old woman sitting on a bench. The old woman is knitting a small, red sweater. The man begins to cry. Write this scene.

We encourage you to give fiction a try, even if that not what you normally do — it can be a fun way to stretch. If fiction feels like a bridge to far, take some element from the scene that speaks to you, and write a non-fiction piece about that. Perhaps you are drawn to the old woman, and will write a piece about your grandmother, or the crying man will inspire a story about the last time you cried joyful tears.

Today’s twist: write the scene from three different points of view: from the perspective of the man, then the woman, and finally the old woman.

If point of view was an object, it would be William Carlos Williams’ infamous red wheelbarrow; everything depends on it.

Man’s Point of view

Alhamdulillah, finally I got my holiday for a week. It was difficult to find times for my amazing wife, Safira. I’m always busy with my job. I admit I often leave my wife alone in our apartment. I have a wonderful plan to spend this holiday with her. We just married. So, I missed a romance moment, walking and enjoying our times together.

“Hun, do you mind if we walk to the town park this evening?”

“Sound lovely. I know the reason, why you chose that place,” said Safira. She has approved my plan.

“Thanks Hun!” I kiss her forehead warmly.

We don’t need to prepare something. We leave our apartment and walk to the park.

That park is very beautiful. I see many flowers there. They’re smell good. I hold my wife’s hand. I want to feel her warm. She is lovely. And I can feel her pure love by holding her hand. She smiles at me. I want to hug her, but I’m shy to do it in public place.

“Hun, look at the children! They’re so adorable. I imagine our baby, it’d be nice if we can play and enjoy such this time together!” said Safira hopefully.

“We will, insha’Allah!”

We walk again to see other scenes. My eyes catch the old woman who is sitting on the bench  She is knitting a small red sweater. She is making it skillfully.

“She is like….”

My last memory about my religion teacher came to my mind. Madam Husna was a great teacher. She was alone spent her life. One thing that broke my heart was I couldn’t visit her when she was gotten the treatment. I was busy with my work. When I came, she had passed away.

I felt hurt. I can’t forgive myself. And this old woman is really like Madam Husna. I can’t keep my sadness, then I sit with knees in front of her. I hold her right hand and kissed it mannerly.

“Who are you? Let go of!”  The old woman asks me. She is quiet confuse. Her a small red sweater is fallen from her hands.

My wife wipes my tears, and says, “Dear, let her alone! What’s up with you?”

“I don’t want to leave her alone. Not anymore! I’d be there to accompany her. She is like…….” I can’t continue my answer. I’m crying in front of my wife and the old woman. I can’t hide my sadness. It’s still hurt. Safira hugs me and say, “Let her alone, please! Please!”

Woman’s point of view

I’m very happy now! Indeed! It’s amazing that my husband Ali gets his holiday for a week. It’d be interesting to spend times together with him. He is a lovely husband for me. He is warm and all heart. I love him a lot. I’m so blessed become his wife.

I often stay at home alone. He suggested me to take rest from my job, because I have some problems with my health. I really hope this holiday will be fun.

Now, I’m lying on bed, when he comes. He walks toward me and asks me about plan of holiday.

“Hun, do you mind if we walk to the town-park this evening?”

“Sound lovely. I know the reason, why you chose that place,” I approve his plan.

He smiles at me, and kisses my forehead, “Thanks Hun!”

After praying ashar, we go to park. Ali holds my hand with love.

“Ah, he is so sweet. So romantic! I miss this moment.”

I look around and see the visitors. I can see the happiness from the faces of children. They are playing hide and seek, running to catch balloon. Lovely to see!

“Hun, look at the children! They’re so adorable. I imagine our baby, it’d be nice if we can play and enjoy such this time together!” say I to my hubby.

“We will, insha’Allah!”

We walk again to see other scenes. When we pass the old woman, my hubby stops his walk and stares at her, the old woman who is sitting on the bench. She is knitting a small red sweater. She is making it beautifully. She is very active, indeed! I ask to myself why she sits here alone. Where is her family?

I see my hubby begins to cry. I don’t understand with him. Suddenly, he sits with knees in front of her. He holds the old woman’s right hand and kissed it mannerly.

“Who are you? Let go of!”  The old woman asks him. She is quiet confuse. Her a small red sweater is fallen from her hands.

I’m really confused with him. But, I can’t do anything for a while. I can feel the sadness of him. I try to wipe the tears on his face, “Dear, let her alone! What’s up with you?”

My hubby doesn’t respond me. I don’t know why he did it to the old woman. I really don’t know about that. I just can feel his sadness, but what is it about? Was there a sad story of him in the past? You made me sad, my love.

I take his hand and invite him to leave the old woman. I don’t want to disturb her. But, my hubby says, “I don’t want to leave her alone. Not anymore! I’d be there to accompany her. She is like…….” He can’t continue his words. He’s crying in front of me.

I seduce him and give him a warm hug, “Let her alone, please! Please!”

The old woman’s point view

“O My God, what time is it?” I am nervous when I see the watch. I remember I have to go to park to meet my grandson, Yazid. Yesterday, he emailed me. O, I miss him. I guess, he is a young man now, handsome like his father Ismail.

I take my small-red sweater. I knitted it yesterday. I need a little time to finish it. I’ll give it to Yazid’s daughter, Zahwa.

Yazid and his parents visited me in this big house 10 years ago. He was 13. But he was a tall boy. “I really miss you , Yazid! I miss your sweet family!”

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have enough time to visit me this time. So, he only asked me to meet in the park.

I walk to the park. It is near from my house. This evening is really beautiful. The butterflies fly and descend upon the flowers. The children are playing balloon, the others are playing hide and seek. They are very happy, and enjoying the time. Some young couples are talking nicely. I walk toward and choose a bench under the palm tree. Before knitting a small sweater, I message Yazid and inform him about my location. I hope he and his daughter will find me easily.

I continue my work to finish the small sweater. I’m sure 30 minutes later I’ll finish it, and Yazid will come in 45 minutes.

I’m enjoying my work. I love knitting since I was a child. My mother taught me well about it.

When I’m enjoying my time, all at once a young man comes close to me. He sits on knees and holds my hand. He kisses mine. I’m so confuse. My small – red sweater is fallen from my hands. “Who is this man?” Behind him, a young woman stands and touches the shoulders of this man.

“Who are you? Let go of!” I take my hand crudely. I’m afraid of him. He’s a stranger. I had bad memory with the stranger. I can’t believe in all the strangers. Never!

He stares at me. He’s crying.

O young man, how could you cry like a baby?  

The young woman, I don’t know her. Is she his wife, his girl or whom, I don’t care about her. She seduces a young man to leave me. But a young man says to her, “I don’t want to leave her alone. Not anymore! I’d be there to accompany her. She is like…….”

I can hear his words. But I don’t understand about that.

Please leave me alone! I just want to meet Yazid and Zahwa, not you both.. I only say it in my mind. I hope they will leave me alone.