Here's a story about me and a baby.
Yesterday, I went back to the village of my foster family to celebrate my 2nd day of Eid Eidulfitr with them. They had a big gathering - the whole villagers - at the long house. Not gonna miss a chance so that's why I'm back.
There was this lil boy named Baby Z (not his real name). He's a year old. This cute boy is the only son of a single mother who is happened to be my foster sister. Most of the time, she's working in town, leaving behind her son at home under the care of her parents.
I love kids. I mean those good kids but babies are all my babies. I love them all. Baby Z is not an exception. He loves to smile. He loves to chuckle at the face of people who play surprise attacks on him. He loves my jokes (everyone hates my jokes but him). Of course, this kind of connection is not the point where all things come together at once. I've taken care of him once when I came a few months ago. Practically, when I'm there, I'll be there to help and take care of him. But this time, it wasn't the same.
You know when a baby comes to you naturally and takes your arms, he wants you to take him (and only you) and you did, and afterward, when you try to pass him to other people and he refuses, you know that? Well, that happens to me - between me and Baby Z. At first, I thought it was simply baby care job. Kids being kids. I don't think so.
I carried him until he fell asleep. I was so tired and everyone else was occupied - people came to visit our house for Eid. I sat on an empty sofa and lied so low that it seemed like I was lying down on a bed but not entirely, though. Baby Z? He was on top of me. We both fell asleep. My other foster sister came (not Baby Z's mom). He wanted to put Baby Z on the bed. I tried to pass him to her. He woke up and refused, and continued to hug me tight. I think he's more familiar with his auntie's voice and I tried to think that maybe Baby Z was so sleepy, he ignored his auntie.
Later, we went to the long house. We wanna gather with other people. We brought Baby Z with us but we left him at our grandparents' house. We enjoyed the night - foods and drinks provided, there's a band performing songs, everyone was dancing, and I had my great times. I was drinking when I saw my foster dad came with Baby Z whom I thought was sleeping happily. Quickly, I rushed at him. Baby Z was wide awake. As soon as our eyes met, he stretched his arms towards me and his hands were trying to reach me. I took him and brought him to the side of the long house. He was quiet - like always. I brought him around to dance, eat and drink, and to other people whom he cared less. Old people were calling his name and yet they had no responses. I walked to the side of the long house where his mom was around. I thought maybe she wanted to take him so I tried to. His mom was ready to take him while calling his name. I passed him to her and before I knew how he was quiet even when I did bring him to dance around, he cried.
I took him back. I carried him around again until he fell asleep and I looked at him. I realized that I was fitting in a role - a father figure for him - I felt so close and I was hugging him, and I could feel how I was so emotionally attached to him already. I wanted to care him. I wanted him so much.
But of course, it wouldn't happen. I can only be an uncle to him and I am back at my home, away from him again. Like anyone else who has a heart of a parent, I do hope that when we meet again, it's just like the way we left it, "I am your dad, you are my son."
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