Source: Pexels, modified
I came home like floating. The path I walked was as if a flower bed bloomed in the spring. Metro train was like a golden which was pulled by eight horses. The @tlundy47 songs that usually broadcast on Radio Rising Star seemed to accompany the trip home. The song was stomping and invited audiences to dance. I wanted to dance, no, I wanted to fly and dance in the sky.
The meeting with Annelice had turned all worries into roses. Annelice's story about studying music on campus kept ringing in my ears. No, it was not about college but the chance to meet Annelice. That's what was important and made me unable to forget the offer.
I usually dozed off for a while on the train all the way home because I was tired of busking all day long. But not this time. My eyes were wide open but seemed to see nothing. It was as if I saw a screen in a cinema that rolled repeatedly scenes from the meeting: Annelice, conversation, and Gayo coffee.
Without realizing it, my train arrived at Kant Station, which was near Kant Intersection. I walked casually towards the house whistling. A row of pine trees along the road seemed to sway to welcome me. I felt like this was my best day since I was busking.
Aristotle, my Greek neighbor, waved from his house. I waved back. He was cutting the leaves of his house's fence that grew wild. Aristotle was an old man who was avid gardeners. The yard of his house was very neat, contrast to his beard which grew wild as if it had never been shaved. I could not understand why he was like that. I ever asked him once and he replied that the bushy beard was his favorite, as much as looking at a neat garden.
I kept walking. Anastasia, daughter of Dostoevsky, Aristotle's neighbor, as usual was engrossed in painting in front of her house. In my opinion, Anastasia had a great talent in fine arts but not by drawing landscapes as she often did. I haven't discussed this matter with her. I was reluctant because I was worried she would be offended. Wasn't most artists easily offended when their work was criticized?
As I approached the house, I saw something different. There was a plank raised near the fence. The closer, the clearer the inscription was on it: "For sale".
I was shocked at the announcement and immediately ran into the house.
To be continued...
Source: Pixabay, modified
Mimpi Menjadi Bintang (Bagian 14): House for Sale
Aku pulang seperti melayang. Jalan yang kulalui seakan hamparan bunga mekar di musim semi. Kereta Metro seperti kereta kencana yang ditarik kuda sembrani. Lagu-lagu @tlundy47 yang biasa tersiar di Radio Rising Star seakan mengiringi perjalanan pulang. Lagu yang mengentak dan mengajak berdansa. Aku seakan ingin menari, bukan, aku ingin terbang dan menari di langit.
Pertemuan dengan Annelice telah mengubah segala gundah menjadi mawar. Cerita Annelice tentang belajar musik di kampusnya terus terngiang-ngiang di telingaku. Bukan, bukan tentang kuliahnya tapi kesempatan bertemu Annelice. Itu yang penting dan membuatku tak bisa melupakan tawarannya.
Aku biasanya tertidur sejenak di kereta sepanjang pulang karena lelah mengamen sepanjang hari. Tapi tidak kali ini. Mataku terbuka lebar tapi seakan tak melihat apa-apa. Aku seperti melihat layar di bioskop yang menayangkan berulang-ulang adegan pertemuan tadi: Annelice, percakapan, dan kopi Gayo.
Tanpa sadar keretaku telah sampai di Stasiun Kant, yang berada di dekat Simpang Empat Kant. Aku berjalan kaki dengan santai menuju rumah sambil bersiul-siul. Deretan pohon cemara sepanjang jalan seperti bergoyang-goyang menyambut kedatanganku. Aku merasa inilah hari terbaikku sejak aku mengamen.
Aristotle, tetanggaku asal Yunani, melambaikan tangan dari rumahnya. Aku membalas lambaian tangannya. Dia tampak sedang memotong daun-daun pagar rumahnya yang tumbuh liar. Aristotle adalah bapak tua yang rajin dan senang berkebun. Pekarangan rumahnya sangat rapi, kontras dengan jenggotnya yang dibiarkan tumbuh liar seperti tak pernah dicukur. Aku tak habis pikir mengapa dia begitu. Aku pernah menanyakan hal itu dan dia menjawab bahwa jenggot lebat itu kesukaannya, sama sukanya dengan melihat kebun yang rapi.
Aku terus melangkah. Anastasia, putri Dostoevsky, tetangga Aristotle, seperti biasa sedang asyik melukis di depan rumahnya. Menurutku, Anastasia punya bakat besar dalam seni rupa tapi bukan dengan menggambar pemandangan seperti yang sering dia lakukan. Aku belum membahas soal ini dengannya. Aku enggan karen khawatir dia tersinggung. Bukankah kebanyakan seniman mudah tersinggung bila karyanya dikritik?
Ketika mendekati rumah, aku melihat sesuatu yang berbeda. Ada sebuah papan ditegakkan di dekat pagar. Semakin dekat, semakin jelas tulisan yang tercantum di sana: Rumah ini dijual.
Aku terperanjat membaca pengumuman itu dan langsung berlari ke dalam rumah.
Bersambung...
Source: Mariusz Lukasik from Pexels
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