the children ask me,
“How you used to spendyour ramadhan?”
i take deep breath
“Kids, look thatMasjid… it was only a small Langgar.. but what’s a name?”
“I can’t got what yousaid!” the childrens frowning
“I miss it, since thatLanggar still here in my heart!”
“How can it be..”
“Kids, every time icome to this beautiful masjid… seem i rushed the time when this only a squarered bricks room… but we were all – the children in this place – gathered here,not only during ramadhan.. But Ramadhan was very special, since we spent almostour times and days here..”
“Did you sleep on it ?”
“Yes Kids, not onlysleeping, we played here. For ramadhan we forgot our house, we move here…”
“What about grandpa? I meant,were he angry?”
“No Kids, our fathersunderstood and even they asked us to join the children in Langgar…”
“Hmmm, it must be nice!”
“Sure! We still long that itwill be happened once again..!”
“But.. why this Masjid getrid the children now?”
Once again I take a deepbreath.
“That’s the problem. Theolds here don’t understand, that this masjid depend on you – the children here –not on us who growing older and older. ..!”
“Why you tell it to me?”
“I tell you.. my childhood…I hope you got the spirit…”
“Will you allow me to do thesame things?”
“For Sure! But i wonder, youcan get a friend”
I pat and arm their shoulder,
“That’s Maghrib…now…”
