It was Saturday and he still didn't get it. Tasked with reciting the doa for the closing he was still combining the perfect words to make it memorable. He took out his tiny netbook, switched on to Microsoft Word and looked intently to the cursor waiting for the words to appear by themselves.It didn't.
He looked at his maroon coloured shirt specially tailored for this day. It cost him RM 75 but he didn't care. This should be a special day. He wanted to make it speacial. All the burden was onto him as he thought of the people who gave him the task to recite the doa.
He felt so lost.
And then, he went deep further into his memory. He remembered. He remembered the most precious thing he ever met or would ever meet. It was not the all the VIPs who would sit there and waiting patiently to finish up his recitation of doa. It was not the people who gave him the piece of cloth which was transformed into a pretty nice shirt. It was not the eyes and the ears that would observe every words he would utter.
It was the children of Al-Amin. The future.
Then, like a fresh stream of river, the words came through his mind, through his little tiny netbook and finally filling up the empty pages. He shared what was written with his father, his father shared his thoughts. And there was only one the thankful to. It was the Almighty Lord.
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