There were three things residing in my mind as I went through this year’s summer rollercoaster. So haunted that I think of writing them. Somehow it was not as easy as I thought. Several matters here and there absorbed me, crowded enough to keep me away from sitting in front of my computer and pouring out the idea.

Summer has passed, so has autumn. What an outdated topics that winter is coming now. But if I read the title up there, I guess yeah it’s just me losing the chance.

I remember that one school day, a friend told me that she couldn’t join the trip to another town to attend a classmate’s wedding. I was dazed that her excuse was not to miss the last day of annual sale of a very famous undergarment brand. It was very logic, though; as she explained on why she wouldn’t push herself on attending a wedding of someone she barely speak to. A shopping freak as she confessed, she had something much more important to do. “Don’t lose the chance” was her quote.

I am not a fashion freak, nor a brand loyalist. Somehow, even if I was, I think I wouldn’t be that bold to take her way. I am both amazed and thankful on that we make it as good friends despite our totally opposite way of thinking.

That night, I was rushing to Sannomiya. When I got to the bus meeting point, two friends were already there. One was getting something from me and the other one kindly handed me a pack of Kobe pudding. A trivial but highly important thing in Japanese culture: omiyage a.k.a souvenir. I was heading to Tokyo straight from the lab for an internship program. Panda eyes on my face due to a week lack of sleep, my mind was already somewhere else in Kanagawa. It’s really a blessing to have friends around collecting the pieces when my hands were too short.

I looked out the window as the bus was heading to Osaka. The moon was high, round and yellow. It was not as marvelous as the night before: the harvest moon that I saw while I was riding home at 1 am. Ramadhan had just half month passed. Yet I had successfully broken my promise to celebrate the holy month properly. The beginning was so perfect as if the old days were coming back to me. But then, look at me. Sitting on the bus, doing my isya prayer, then my tarawih., my heart started weeping. What on earth was I doing? Was this journey worth to do? Did I pay the right price to let go a great chance?

While I was rolling my luggage to move to another bus, I saw a group of teenagers sitting in front of a convenience store. Beer cans and cigarettes, the chat and laugh were so loud. I couldn’t help not to sigh, screaming silently wishing them to give me something they were in excess of: the time.

Then I laughed at myself for being so silly. I missed the chance, nobody’s to envy. I simply lost.