Kring-Kring [translation]: a fiction

I hate translation, but here it is:

[Delanggu, one day in 1989]

Dad's bycicle's sound woke me up. It had been three weeks since I was lying here. I can't play, go to school, or eat regular food. Only three half cooked eggs a-day that I like just because I have to eat. Mom is good at that.

This disease limited my ability to digest food, but I am glad because I can eat one more thing: my favorite taro snack.

And that's one of the reason I was happy to hear Dad's bike, my snack is coming...

[Cincinnati, April 13, 2004]

Dad always came home early morning, after working third-shift in the factory. He had his own office, where he keeps all the tools and works. I always proud of him. He is a faithful, true family man, who always loves his kids, ..with his own ways..

Dad hardly ever talks with us, his kids. My mom, is faithfully trying to convince us that that's the way he is. He loves us, said she. Yes. Of course.

I always want to have a father who can talk to me. Then I found them: Pak Sumiadi, my science teacher; my priest; and Pak Cono, my professor..I can find my favorite dad in them, who can talk and tell me things, calling me nduk[daughter in Javanese] and giving me advices...

But they are not my dad.

Kring-kring" my dad's bike reminds me of him. My real dad. That I am missing this second..