AMBWRITE 🐾

Once upon a time, in a lush green jungle, lived an Ant and an Elephant. They dwelled in different corners of the forest, yet every day they caught glimpses of each other’s lives.   The Ant often gazed at the towering Elephant from afar. “How wonderful it must be to be that big,” he thought. “With just a few steps, you can cross the whole forest. You are strong, majestic, and respected by all.”   But on the other side of the jungle, the Elephant had his own thoughts. Watching the Ant scurry quickly between roots and burrows, he sighed, “How free the little ant must be. He can slip through the tiniest cracks, wander anywhere, even hide beneath the earth. How I wish I could be that light and nimble.”   One day, while the Ant was foraging for food with his mother, his bottled-up feelings spilled out.   “Mother, why was I born an ant?” he cried bitterly. “I hate being tiny. Everyone looks down on me. I’m weak, small, and all we do is gather crumbs. I ...

  "I want to be braver. I want to take more risks,” I said, when you asked what I would do if I could turn back time.   You laughed. “Like… marrying me?”   I froze. Laughed back, but emptily. Marry. One word that’s always been too big for us; too beautiful, too dangerous. Not because we don’t love each other, but precisely because we do.   “We shouldn’t take this for granted, should we?” you said, light-hearted, as you scooped the last bite of mie ayam into your mouth. You smiled even while chewing; God, that smile still bloomed as if nothing was ending.   “No. Of course not. We should celebrate this, actually. After everything, we’ve finally grown brave enough… brave enough to say ‘enough’.”   I tried to sound light, like you. But my heart was sinking, a ship swallowed whole by a silent ocean.   Right after today, we’ll return to the unknown. Your number will become just another name buried in my contacts, one that will ...

  “Sekali minum air Mandar, maka ia selamanya adalah orang Mandar.” Langit Polewali Mandar menyambut Ambar bukan dengan pelangi, tapi dengan peluh. Ia datang bukan sebagai pahlawan bersorban merah putih, melainkan sebagai guru biasa, lulusan universitas negeri di Yogyakarta yang dulu dipenuhi mimpi. Jakarta mengutusnya dengan surat tugas yang tampak seperti formalitas, tapi bagi Ambar, itu adalah tiket menuju peran yang lebih besar dari sekadar mengajar—mungkin juga menyentuh kehidupan. Ia hanya membawa satu hal: harapan. Sekolah itu berdiri di tepi waktu. Dindingnya separuh beton, separuh semangat. Murid-muridnya datang tanpa seragam yang seragam. Mata mereka tajam, bukan karena kritis, tapi karena lapar akan sesuatu yang tak mereka pahami. Ambar berdiri di depan kelas, mencoba menyapa dengan Bahasa Inggris. Suara angin lebih mendapat respon. Di sudut ruangan, ada Fikri—bocah kurus dengan mata yang penuh tanya, duduk seperti sedang menanti kapal dari negeri asing. Ambar tak men...