Color pink

My name is Salma Aleeya Firdausiyah. But people call me pink. Not because I’m pink like cotton candy, but because I love that color. My favorite shirt is pink, my school bag is pink, shoes are also pink. Even my pencil venue is also pink. Mother said, pink is a cheerful and soft color. Just like me.

I’m just six years old. Now I go to school in Kindergarten Al-Ikhlas. This is my first school. The first place I got to know the world outside the home, met with many friends, and knew the figure we called “Teacher”. But, here, I want to tell stories not about my favorite lessons or toys. I want to talk about a small journey that makes my heart grow, about a memory that I will never forget.

The first day I went to school, it felt like entering another world. A big world, laughter, and colorful sound. But strangely, I’m afraid. Many children run around, laugh, play cheerfully. But I just stood still beside the bundle, holding his hand tightly. My hands trembled.

“Come on, pink … later pink can play with friends,” said the mother, stroking my hair. His voice was calm, like a warm hug in the rainy season.

I shook my head. My eyes began to glaze over.

Mother then bowed, looked at me with her best smile, and said softly, “Pink a great child. Pink will have new friends here.”

The words were like a rainbow that appeared in the sky clouded my heart. I’m still scared, but I’m trying to step. And apparently, Mother is right.

The days after that walked like an elongated rainbow. I began to know new friends, Keira who liked coloring, Dinda who was funny and talkative, Farhan who liked to share his provisions, and of course Mrs. Rara Teacher, who was patient and loving. We sing, dance, learn letters, make shapes from plasticine, and listen to fairy tales before nap. I am happy.

****

But, like a cloud that sometimes suddenly covers the sun, happiness must be stopped. Without cue.

My grandmother who lives with us, suddenly hurts. Then before long, he died. Since then, the world in my house has changed. Father looks busier, rarely at home. Mother often daydreaming, her eyes are swollen. The sound of laughter at home began to rarely be heard. And then, Mother said that we had to move. We will migrate.

“We have to move, pink. Mother and father must work harder now. So that Pink and brothers can stay in school,” Mother said in a quiet voice when I asked why I could not go to school anymore like before.

I’m confused. “Why am I different from my friends, Bun?”

Mother smiled sadly. “Because life is a struggle, son. Sometimes we have to choose a path that not everyone goes through. But as long as pink remains enthusiastic, keep learning and praying, God willing, the path will be a good way.”

I can only nod. Although not fully understanding, I know we are facing something difficult. My school that I had to leave. Friends who used to play with me could only see in the photo. And I have to learn from home, via a small screen on Mother’s cellphone, while sitting in a new rented room.

Online school is not easy. Sometimes the signal is gone. Sometimes I fall asleep from being bored. But Mother is never angry. He always rubbed my head and said, “Pink is great. Pink can.” Those words make me want to keep trying.

Time goes fast. And without feeling, I returned to school again. This time in a different place. Smaller kindergarten, in a new city. At first I was afraid, like before. But I’ve felt that, so I know I can get through it again.

But not long ago I began to feel comfortable, a news came from Mother.

“We have to move again, pink,” he said one night. “There is a new job that is better, but it is located far from here.”

My heart seemed to be hit by heavy rain. Just now I feel like I have a new world again, new friends, new teachers, new toys and all that I have to leave again?

****

The following days at school felt strange. My friends and I are learning farewell songs. The song is beautiful, but makes my eyes wet every time sung. I tried to sing in a low voice, so that no one knew I was holding back tears.

In my mind, I imagined the friendly face of the teacher, the laughter of friends while playing, and other small memories that felt big in my heart. I know, all this will be a part of me, even though I have to go.

“Moving place does not mean stopping. It is precisely a new adventure,” said the mother again, like repeating life lessons that he taught from the past.

And I believe. Because every time I’m afraid, every time I’m confused, Mother’s hand has always been a place for me to hold. Just like the first day I entered school first.

I am pink. Kindergarten children who are learning are strong. I’m learning to accept change. I was learning to continue walking even though the road was not always recognized. I’m learning that the world is not always fixed, but the colors of memories we can carry wherever we go.

I promise myself, I will keep the spirit of learning. I want to grow into a person who can make the mother and father proud. I want a better future. And I believe, all the struggles today will be a step towards that day.

Thank you, Mother … because I always become my protector. Thank you, Mrs. Teacher … for teaching me patiently. Thank you, friends … for making my little world feel so big and fun. May Allah always take care of all of you.

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Writer: Ummu Masrurah