Unlucky Days Are Not on the Calendar

    

    The first light of dawn filtered through my window as I began my day with a ritual that set the tone for what I hoped would be a productive and uneventful day. I sipped on a glass of water, feeling the cool liquid awaken my senses. With a few stretches to shake off the remnants of sleep, I grabbed my phone to catch up on the latest news. Headlines scrolled past stories of triumph, tragedy, and everything in between each a reminder of the world’s ever-turning wheel.

  

    June 1, 2024, was no ordinary day. It marked another chapter in our KKN (Kuliah Kerja Nyata) project, focused on producing vermicompost fertilizer. Our goal was to create sustainable solutions for local farmers, and under the leadership of Thoriq, our team had made significant strides.

    Arriving at the project site, the air buzzed with the activity of my fellow team members. Thoriq, our diligent leader, was already deep in conversation with some volunteers. His calm demeanor and clear instructions always had a way of inspiring confidence. My tasks for the day involved picking up supplies and providing support wherever necessary a role that required both physical effort and quick thinking.

    As the hours ticked by, a growing sense of unease began to gnaw at me. My wallet was worryingly light I had no cash in rupiah, and my motorcycle’s fuel gauge was hovering near empty. These worries were like a background noise that I couldn’t quite tune out, making it difficult to stay fully present. Nevertheless, I pushed through, determined not to let my anxieties affect my contributions to the team.

    The day was progressing well despite my underlying worries. The team was making good progress with the vermicompost project. Thoriq’s leadership was as inspiring as ever, and everyone was contributing enthusiastically. Yet, as the day drew to a close and we wrapped up our tasks, my stress levels were at an all-time high. The reality of my financial situation and the impending need to refuel my motorcycle weighed heavily on my mind.

    With the day's tasks completed, I mounted my motorcycle and started the journey home. The route through Ploso Timur was familiar, yet the bustling traffic always demanded full attention. My mind, however, was preoccupied with thoughts of finding an ATM and a gas station.

    As I navigated the streets, a pickup car ahead of me came to an abrupt halt. I had little time to react. My heart raced as I squeezed the brakes, but it was too late. The collision was inevitable. The impact jolted me, leaving my motorcycle’s front body damaged and the glass lamp shattered. The pickup car, thankfully, was unscathed.

    Shaken but unhurt, I quickly assessed the situation. The driver of the pickup car was cooperative, and we exchanged information without issue. Standing by the side of Ploso Timur, the reality of my circumstances hit hard. My motorcycle, my reliable companion, now bore the scars of the day’s events.

    The stress of the day, compounded by the accident, weighed heavily on me. I decided not to attempt any immediate repairs. Instead, I carefully rode my damaged motorcycle home, each jolt a reminder of the challenges I had faced.

    As I finally arrived home and settled in, the events of the day played over in my mind. The collision was a stark reminder of the importance of focus and the potential consequences of distraction. The worries that had plagued me throughout the day had reached a tipping point, culminating in the accident.

    The next few days were spent reflecting on the incident and planning my next steps. The KKN project continued, and so did my commitment to it, though I now approached my responsibilities with a renewed sense of caution. The accident, though unfortunate, became a pivotal moment of growth. It deepened my appreciation for the work we were doing and the need to stay attentive and present in all aspects of life.