Riding, Chasing The Moon

I would like to try something new. Something that does not involve "love" and everything that is attached to it. Thing is, I'm poetic and I can't help not to be. I have the tendency to describe things with my heart. My heart, filled with romantic thoughts. I am very emotional, but not in the I'm-angry-all-the-time kind of way. I'm poetic, and i find it very hard to separate exaggeration from poetry. So forgive me.

I want to try something new. Please bear with me. I will try my best not to think of romantic thoughts for this entry. But just you know, I am currently in love. I am in love with a smile; a smile I constantly and patiently wait for everyday in school.

You can start here.

I love ojek rides. I love the wind, the freedom, even the dirt which sporadically gets into my eyes. I have not rode on the ojek for a while now, and frankly, I miss it. I don't know why I stopped riding. I'm guessing it's the accidents; my mom never approves of motor cycle rides.

Once when he was young, my dad fell off a motor bike and broke a bone. The scar? Permanent. His wife, being the protective mother that she is, forbid her kids to even try riding. She won't let history repeat itself, so she had my brothers and I tucked safely behind a seat belt as often as she can. She loves us, I know, but I had to break the rule.

I was in the second grade when I first rode. I felt safe, I felt covered; I sat between two adults. Not once did I think of falling. Windy. Each and every ojek ride I took eversince are always windy.

Incase you never notice, Indonesian women have this special way of sitting on a motor cycle. Both legs put to one side and hands ever so firmly hold the rider for safety. Helmets are, of course, required. But I was, am, and always will be an improper passenger. I never rode the ojek the conventional way and I refuse to protect my brain from scattering if ever I fall off the bike.

I love the wind. I love the way it pushes all my hair back so I can see everything in full scope.

And then people started dying.

Accidents happened all over Lippo. So many, that my mom hired another driver just to get me to my lessons. I accepted the gift and got my self adjusted to sleeping in the car.

My last ojek ride? Probably to school when my driver was sick in fifth grade.

I began to forget the feeling. The sensation. All of it. I abandoned my close friend, The Wind. But yesterday, we were reunited.

My brothers were busy and my driver was at somewhere-I-don't-know; I was at Vania's house, starting this blog entry actually. But of course I had to go home. How? I had no car or driver. We have a motorcycle, I thought. I never use it, I'm pretty sure my mom bought it for my mbak-s so they can get around. But I had to go home, my weekly fellowship was about to start!

I called. She came, helmet and all. But none for me; I wouldn't wear it even if she brought one. I held my laptop tight and she drove away. Everything came back to me. The feeling, the sensation, all of it. I was about to meet The Wind.

The moon was beautiful that night. Full, bright, but fairly small. I have seen a bigger and brighter moon that that, but nonetheless, it was beautiful. It just hung there because it didn't feel like doing anything. It shone; it just shone. The moon moved and began leading the way as my mbak turned the steer. She sped up and the ride began. The moon teased me and asked me to chase it.

The feeling, the sensation.
I loved the way every particle of wind kissed my face. My hair, now short, surrendered and let the wind took action. The moment simply took my breath away, when I looked up and saw the moon smiling at me; close, but completely unreachable. No stars came out to play. She drove without hesitation. I hugged my laptop tighter. Cars said hi to each other, honking. I smiled. The moon was still there.

I felt a slight heat from the asphalt road, mixed with the mild night breeze. Soon, I had to fight with the trees to get a glimpse of the moon ray. I won. Then I realized the ride was going to end, I was getting closer to home.

The Wind said goodbye as the engine died. I sighed. I will ride again. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week. Maybe next time, it's sunshine I will find. The moon stepped right when I stepped out of the vehicle, and it smiled it one last smile to me that night. I looked straight up and saw a few stars vaguely twinkling. I didn't see them earlier because I was too focused on the moon. I locked the door and took a shower.

I sang a few songs to seize the night. It was my first ride after a very long time and I'm glad the moon was there to greet me and the Wind was there to kiss me. I will ride again.