On his way to Shinto, a little boy looks at the window. “It’s a beautiful night with a starry sky” he whispers slowly. “Yes darling, the moon smiles so brightly tonight,” a woman replies while seeing a rainbow.
One fine day, he learns about the anecdote. The young man feels no need to gloat, so he gets bored. His mom flips the pages and shows him a picture. “Look, I’ve told you red suits well,” he compliments that amazing coat. “Yes darling, this is an amazing red coat” she replies while seeing the blue one.
Some men are checking if she is doing well, as she is all alone. I step closer and ask them not to bother that woman. They could not see what I saw.
“Mom, I’ll touch the sky to feel the wind. I’ll put the glasses off just to see the sunshine. I’ll take my clothes off just to be washed by the rain. I just wanna be seen and see, I wanna be touched and feel.” It’s midnight already, and I heard the young man cry.
Ah, now I know what dreams can be shown to him. Dream without eyes. Dream without sight. His dream is just imagination. At least, it is what a dream is called to a blind young man.
“Son, I’ll run over without slippers to meet you on the other side of the world. I’ll climb the highest building just to see you in person. And I’ll swim the deepest ocean if I can hug you there. I just miss you, a lot.” Still in the middle of the night, and I heard the woman cry.
Ah, now I know what dream can be shown to her. A dream that isn’t limited to death. A dream that overcomes fear. Her dream is just imagination. But at least, it is what dream is called to a mom who has lost his only boy.
That night, I sat by her side and held her hands. I stared at her and her eyes met mine. I saw through her heart. It’s dark, full of condolences. She got a boy who is blind and short, so she told me, “It’s better so”. And I replied, “That’s okay, I already knew.”
She didn’t even have to ask whether I saw him or not. One thing she’s being sure of is, I got to know her in the world of silence. “Yes, I can see your past, also dead,” she cried as I told her.
I took that book from her, opened another page, and read something there, “It’s never been an easy path to live if you can’t let your past go. I would say that your life is trapped, and day by day your scars are getting worse. You blame yourself for your loss, and that’s why you can’t go through it. You can’t make it to the present without doubting yourself.”
“Do I have any right to live happily? Ah, no. Do I even have any right to be alive? To live in this universe?” I could see such questions in her mind, so I told her, “You have felt guilty enough.”
“It’s never been an easy path to live if you can’t choose between the present or the past. Your lovely ones were there in the past. But you are now fighting alone in this cruel present. I understand if it’s never been an easy way to cross. But don’t live in the past. Your life has no meaning when you keep thinking about the past. Your spirit is gone because you can’t put the past behind. It is stopping you from living as your heart wants.” I continued.
“I know you are hurt. And you are hurt, that’s why you feel alive. I know it’s torturing but that’s when you feel alive the most. I know. But another thing I know that you don’t is that you lived by millions of little miracles. While God took your son from an accident, you survived, and you’re doing well. Count that million little miracles and you will understand. Why does God keep pouring you with His love? You live because you’ve been carried by grace.”
As I finished my words, she wiped the tears on her face and stopped crying. I stopped the train later while giving her that dream, a happy day in a wonderland with her little boy. It’s the only way that she can get off the train without being buried in guiltiness.
That’s how I ask humans to go back when it’s not their time. They aren’t being called home yet. That’s why she should make that decision and leave the train. She won’t be accepted at heaven’s gate though. She is supposed to go back, and happily live her life in the present.
The end.
Author : Fernisya Abellya / 214214025
Editor: Fransiskus Nino, Cynthia Olga Handoko (QC)
Illustrator: Maria Angelica Chrysanti
