To Uki

I haven't looked at you closely for a long time. I didn't have the courage "yesterday" and kept my distance. Without realising it, you have aged as if to prove that time really does run. You can't always lie about your grey hair that you polish with black dye. A thin line cuts across your face that is full of smiles and warmth. 

It has been a long time since we had the chance to talk about life. I was immersed in my work as a social worker and you were enjoying your adventurous too much. Once, you said it was hard to meet me, actually I wanted to response that it was all your fault because you were the one who introduced me to social movements. Don't get me wrong, I've never regretted it and am actually grateful. 

Last night I went to your house and as usual you weren't there. I sat in the living room as usual. My gaze travelled across the room, where various memories were nails in photos, accessories or traditional totems. As if nothing had changed, I suddenly became very melancholic. I spoke to Yanto (Yanti) for a while, but he quickly scurried off to have some fun in the bathroom. I was left to wait if the guests had any questions. I got up and moved to your favourite chair in the corner of the room. Oh, this is the kind of scene you see when we gather in the centre and you watch from the corner. Like a mother watching her children. 

It wasn't long before you appeared with another Yanto. You had just returned from Imogiri because there was a new coffee shop and interestingly it was run by a young local. That's normal for me, but your story takes my breath away. The never-ending adventures that established you as an anthropologist, although I was quite disappointed that you rarely wrote about it. Even though I bought you a diary. How can you be immortal without writing?

If I'm not mistaken. Do you still feel lonely? You never tell me about it anymore. Nothing is perfect and I think your loneliness is what makes you human. Don't ever trapped by young people who only want your wealth. Leave your friends who are only there when they need you. Living alone isn't that painful. And maybe living alone isn't mean lonely. 

I still remember a picture of you with your friends. The day said that your turn would come soon. I got goosebumps hearing that even though I know everyone dies eventually. But I still had a promise for you, a promise of a pending adventure. You did say that it wasn't a promise, but let's do it!

So that I can die in peace.