It’s the rainy season here. Plants in my garden sway and look fresher and greener under the pouring rain. While sipping warm tea, I remembered my childhood under my parents’ roof.

We lived in a small town. My late father was a civil servant with a low income. He was a librarian. Life was not easy; he had 6 children, but I never saw him stressed with such a burden.

On the contrary, I saw him trying to bring happiness to his big family. On rainy days like this, he gathered us in the living room to play dominoes or cards. He gathered us so we wouldn’t play in the rain, which would make Mom angry because it would add to the dirty clothes that had to be washed.

You can imagine how noisy our living room was at that time. 4 players (Dad, me, and my two brothers) and three little babies watched the game. We played without strategy, but everyone wanted to win.

On a rainy day, one easily gets hungry. Can you guess what snack Mom gave us? She cooked boiled or fried cassava. It was a cheap snack, but when we ate it after playing and laughing together, we were like other families who lived more prosperously.

Sometimes, Dad had to work overtime and then took me and my younger brothers to the library. I got acquainted with several magazines and biographies of famous people in Indonesia. While my brothers ran along the bookshelves, I was immersed in reading. That was where I began to grow my interest in reading and writing.

The rain had brought back that simple moment of the past. It was so clear like I was watching a movie.