Another story of home

The night has long way started but they were still in hunger; waiting in the line for that night's dinner. The baby on mother's left hand was crying; struggling for a little comfort from a little space crowded. One place at a time, one station for a typical regular crowd; must be the same group who come everytime. 

Heard from this one corner of sides, a head volunteer shouted "datang sorang harini kak?" . Must be the regular people who have come twice or more. 

All volunteers were standing readily, at every station. One person for each food station. One to get the people in line. One as "coffee or syrup, sir?" - station. Another one standing at the back while holding a big jug of syrup incase they need extra of pale but sweet in taste sirap. At the front, the helpers were asked to stand in line. Also being called 'human wall'; they were prepared to help mothers and old people. One thing about the scenery was that; they got system. No volunteer will stick at one station till the night ends; we switch among ourselves. So that everyone can experience variety of works. Everyone looks happy; that way. 

The first 5-minutes was emotional. My first station was human wall. Kinda being an observer, I got my face red holding tears. But I realized it doesn't work that way. This night was about giving, and I shouldn't take it too much at heart. I should do it happily, smiling. Just like the one who comes preparing their hands widely open; to take. 

I want to remember this night. The night when I've been taught to count little small things. The night when I see strong people living their life for another day everyday. It must be hard; but sure they are blessed in ways I've never thought by God. To me, they shouldn't be called homeless. For home is nothing like a shelter. They do have their place to sleep and live. Their home is the society around. Their home; must be the society around who care and share. So, until they are being helped by the society; they have home. Until humanity fades off, there is no way they deserve to be called 'homeless'. 

Tonight; I stopped thinking to be someone's favourite. I forgot to know the feeling of being repaid. I didn't remember how afraid I was to give because I thought I might then have less. Because-- nothing ever meaningful than someone standing at your front, looks right into your eyes and smiles-- 

then says "terima kasih banyak, dik" 

Ps: btw it was pertiwisoupkitchen ; may google them incase uguys are interested to join