BLOG : Setahun Usiaku…

Aku dilahirkan pada 11 August 2003, kini aku sudah berusia lebih setahun…

Yeah… rupa2 nya dah lebih setahun usia blog ini… dengan niat asal hanya ingin mencuba2… sekarang ia telah menjadi wadah utk. aku mencoretkan apa saja yang ingin aku coretkan, tanpa perlu memikirkan ape orang nak kata… 🙂

Well… hari ni aku keboringan saje di ofis… seems like my boss dah tanak bagi ape2 projek utk. aku handle, my last day at ENC will be on 17th Sept, and I will start at Siemens on 1st October. so, aku ade masa cuti lebih kurang 2 minggu, bolehla balik Kelate, dah lama aku tak balik ke negeri Serambi Mekah tu.

Semalam… hadir ke majlis perkahwinan Ziana & Azzimir. Congrats!!! :). Moga berbahagia dan dirahmati Allah sentiasa. Seronok jumpa kawan2… ise, nafisz, zarp, moktar, sue, amla, sha, sarah m, kak lina dan ramai lagi :).

Ok ler… kepada semua yang sentiasa mengikuti perkembangan blog ini, samada yang bermula setahun lalu.. atau yang baru berkenalan dengan al Faqir Mudin… a special story for all of u, thanks to friend who forward this to me :

A young man learns what’s most important in life from the guy next door. It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.

Over the phone, his mother told him, “Mr.. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday.”

Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.

“Jack, did you hear me?”

“Oh sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It’s been so long since I thought of him. I’m sorry, but I honestlythought he died years ago,” Jack said.

“Well, he didn’t forget you. Every time I saw him he’d ask how you were doing. He’d reminisce about the manydays you spent over ‘his side of the fence’ as he put it,” Mom told him.

“I loved that old house he lived in,” Jack said.

“You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man’s influence inyour life,” she said.
“He’s the one who taught me carpentry,” he said. “I wouldn’t be in this business if it weren’t for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important…Mom, I’ll be there for the funeral.”

As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser’s funeral wassmall and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.
The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one moretime. Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into anotherdimension, a leap through space and time.
The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece offurniture….Jack stopped suddenly.

“What’s wrong, Jack?” his Mom asked.
“The box is gone,” he said.
“What box?” Mom asked.
“There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand timeswhat was inside. All he’d ever tell me was ‘the thing I value most,'” Jack said.
It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.

“Now I’ll never know what was so valuable to him,” Jack said. “I better get some sleep. I have an earlyflight home, Mom.”

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered anote in his mailbox. “Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main postoffice within the next three days,” the note read.
Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed ahundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention.
“Mr. Harold Belser” it read.
Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and anenvelope. Jack’s hands shook as he read the note inside:
“Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It’s the thing I valued mostin my life.”

A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked thebox. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finelyetched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved:
“Jack, Thanks for your time! -Harold Belser.”

“The thing he valued most…was…my time.” Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called hisoffice and cleared his appointments for the next two days.
“Why?” Janet, his assistant asked.
“I need some time to spend with my son,” he said. “Oh, by the way, Janet…thanks for your time!”

“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away,”

“Thanks for your time”

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