Annual Time Machine


Dear Rahayu,

It’s strange how we meet anually and you always turn into such time machine, bringing back childhood memories of family holiday, younger me swinging pool stick that was too big for my hands or how I hated myself appearing on the video captured by the only handycam I ever remembered. How you remind me of late afternoon sunlight slipping through the windows, pine trees outside and everybody’s favorite dysfunctional seesaw. How you remind me of the first time I learned about having irrational hopes, occasional disappointment and divorced parents.

It’s strange that we actually never talked that much but I always looked at you the same way; for a while then I looked away after you smiled.