Pulang.

Go home. Pulang.

My sister put "..ingin pulang.."(want to go home)on her FB status few days ago. I commented "pulang kemana?"(where to?)

It was a rethorical question. Really. She could come home here, Papua. We do have a house here. An unfinished house, thanks to my selfish desire to get quality education in exotic land, our living room doesn't have a ceilling; it went straight to the roof. That doesn't really matter actually. It's still a cozy and spacy house. And yes, she could come here, like I said. If she wants to.

But to who? Practically, I don't live there. Since Mama left for Bandung, I never spend a night in that house. For the last 4 months. It is a house, but for me, not a home. It's too big and lonely to be called a home.

Or maybe to Malang? Some people live in that house, supposedly to maintain the house. Yet, my sister said the crack on the wall was so big we could see the clouds and sky through it. The door was so severely eaten by termites if the big bad wolf come, the could huff and puff the door in a single blow.

My mom is now at my brother's house while he and his wife are travelling somewhere else. My sister in Bandung and I'm here. And I want to go home too, whereever that is.