Remember that one time on the bus? It was our week trapped in Jogja. We couldn't find a way to evacuate ourselves from the city being ambushed by Merapi's eruption. We stayed up the night before, remember? I woke up and made you wake up, too. We were holding hands when we heard the tremor, remember? You promised me that we would find a way to get out by morning. You thought that I was scared. I wasn't. You didn't know that.
I remember we took that bus the next day, our desperate attempt to get to the station. No taxis were to be seen...or called. No one wanted to go on our neighborhood. 'Too dangerous', they said. So, you took my bag and held my hand and pushed me to get into the bus. You kept telling me, 'Everything's going to be fine'. Remember?
The bus was filled with ashes and we used our masks. We couldn't see anything more than 5 metres ahead. It was as if we were surrounded by this white cloud. You hugged me, remember? 'Things will be alright', you said. We saw a baby without a mask. You gave her yours. Only your eyes were perfectly covered from the ashes under your sunglasses afterward. It did make me laugh hard on the station.
It was that bus. It was that day. Remember? It was the last time I saw you. At least the you I knew that day. I knew you had to go. To her. I understood. I always understand.