This morning, I woke up hearing the sound of the rain falling from outside of my house. I guess that was my hometown’s turn, after it fell on Jakarta.
And birds are chirping a little late now, as they must be hiding when rain came. I assume.
I lied in my bed, slept again after hearing the sound of the rain falling from outside of my house. I got up and realized it was 9.30. I was supposed to be showering, getting dressed and eating my late-breakfast.
But no, I grabbed my cellphone once I opened my eyes. Replying messages and dealing with life. Or is it life? Which one is life? (But I guess the hustle bustle happening in my cellphone and the calming chirps after the rain were both ‘life’).
Anyway, this is Sunday. And I’m going nowhere but Jogja.
Last sunday I’m at my house. The week before, I went to Blitar. And other Sundays were just the same. I met people. I met life. I met the Sun.
Ah…so now I know why it is called Sunday. The day we can properly be thankful to God of seeing the Sun.