The Old Table in My Father’s Room

Once upon a time in a small villa in Bogor, lived a modest family. The father, Bapak, was a well-respected man in the community, known for his wisdom and kindness. The villa was a century-old family heirloom, and among its many antiquated furniture, the one that captured the most attention was an old wooden table tucked away in Bapak’s office.

This old table had seen several generations. It had etched imprints of ink pens, burn marks from forgotten cigars, and numerous scratches. Yet, despite the visible wear and tear, it remained sturdy and robust. Every day, Bapak sat on this table, embarking on his routine documentation work, reading, and sometimes writing short stories that often ignited the vibrant imagination of his children.

Rumors circulated among the family members that the table possessed a secret. The origin of the rumor was as old as the table itself but nobody knew what the secret was. The children found the rumor fascinating and often wondered about the table. Bapak, aware of the situation, always smiled but never confirmed or denied these rumors.

One stormy evening, Bapak sat at the table working on his stories when a bolt of lightning struck a nearby tree. The ensuing rumble shook the whole house, causing the table to tremble; a secret drawer came sliding out from the side. This drawer caught Bapak’s eye for it was the first time he noticed it.

Bapak opened the drawer carefully. To his surprise, he found a stack of old letters, photos, and a small leather diary. These were his father’s undocumented stories and memories, providing him a glimpse into a past that he never got to experience.

Bapak spent days going over these newfound treasures. He learned in-depth insights about his father’s life – his struggles, his victories, his moments of joy, and his wisdom. He also found notes on the family lineage – stories about the ancestors, their accomplishments, their hardships.

Bapak inherited a profound sense of understanding and responsibility. He would regularly spend time at the old table, reading the letters and diary entries, often with his children by his side. He saw this as an opportunity to share stories about their family’s past, making his bond with the children even stronger.

The old table in Bapak’s room remained as a symbolic piece, not just as a piece of antique furniture, but a medium that connected them with their ancestors. The family members began seeing Bapak as a vehicle of wisdom and history. As for Bapak, the old table became a cherished companion, a silent witness to his days and nights, and a bridge that connected him even farther into his roots.


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