It was a mid summer night,
when it happened.
With His goofy smile and my red kebaya.
   I'm so clumsy, said I
   I'll show you, I hate dancing but we should do this, said He.
It was the moment I knew that he was a good dancer while in his embrace.

It was a mid-summer day
when I learned about him.
He loves poetry, hates to talk in public, and studies political science.
    What are the odds, I found you in the middle of these people, said I
    We were a thousand miles away, but we're here now, said He
It was the moment that I found someone who look at the world exactly like I do.

It was a mid-summer day,
in a museum full of fragile.
He talked about his love of aircraft, like a kid describing a candy factory. I couldn't take my eyes off of him.
   Come on, walk with me, and I'll show you the universe, said He
It was the moment when our lips locked.

It was the last morning of mid-summer,
He with his sleepy gaze with two plates of waffles in his hands,
and I'm ready to leave.
   I hope to see you again soon, said I
   You're the most wonderful person I've ever bumped into, said He
and at that moment, I knew He'll always be my favorite summer fling.

at 28, Bunda had me. Today, I'm turning 28, the same age Bunda gave birth to her first child. And....what am I doing with my life right now? Am I wasting all the potential? Did I dodge the bullet or just lose the love of my life (and probably will never get the chance to experience pure love anymore?) Did the best is yet to come?

As 28 slowly approached, I got the chance to look back and reflect on those particular moments.

At 21, I traveled to NYC and DC to represent Indonesia youths. Graduated at 23, landed two jobs for the next 5 years in the government sector. Navigate my clueless self on how this nation operated. Get the chance to explore all of the Indonesia regions, the wide blue skies, from cities to rural to forests to oceans and mountains. Get to participate first-hand in several policy-making processes. Throw some successful projects. Get to meet new and kind-hearted souls along the way. Learn and re-learn everything all at once. Maintaining friendships for almost 10-20 years, where sometimes they had to witness my anti-social phase (but they understood anyway). Found some new experiences and hobbies that (turns out) I love dearly, with some tiny bruises.

The former boyfriends and their declined proposals, because I have different dreams and they didn't want one of my dreams. A declined scholarship interview because of a break-up a week before. Rented an apartment at 25 for 3 years, and got to know myself more. Got to forgive my parents while being away from home, because they did the best they could on the best choices faith had offered. 3 failed relationships wrecked my trust in love and full of self-sabotage. Then came that one relationship that felt so safe and peaceful, the kind of love that I needed, but we couldn't go further.

All of those episodes of letting go, have a pause and begin again. With the twist of comedies and romances here and there.

There are things that I don't understand for sure, and those "what ifs" and questions are not meant to be answered right now. Possibly in the near future, or probably it would be a mystery my whole life.

I won't mind. And I am ready. Courage, dear heart.

A wise old man said
love comes in many forms.
It's more than meets the eye.
They died in the name of love,
to search for the meaning,
to love,
to love deeply,
to love faithfully.

It takes 21 years to finally learn what love is.
Love is,
having the courage to start over.
Love is,
something that keeps knocking your door up even though you've been hurt, drowned by love.
Love is,
trying to reach out after you've been assaulted.
Love is,
forgiveness to yourself when you know it is not your fault.
Love is,
clean and pure.

I also learn that love
is when my friends skipped a class for me when I need a shoulder to cry on.
Is when she didn't mind being in her office late during our lunch conversation.
Is when my friends took care of me when my tummy hurts like hell during our road trip.
Is when my friend let me sleep on his shoulder even though I'd broken his heart.
Is when my friend was still answering my phone when they knew I have chosen the wrong guy three years ago.
Is when not complaining while giving me a ride home.
Is when they are up for a 2 a.m confession.
Is when having bakso together til our tummy exploded.
Is when they made me laugh while I was crying.
Is when he gave me books for my birthday present, in a blue box wrapped with yellow paper.
Is when our cheeks and tummy hurt after some bad jokes.
Is when they gave some warm hugs.
Is when they knew that I sometimes made bad choices and chose to give me a harsh-slap truth but still stood by my side.

And since last summer,
Love loves to sing me songs with his guitar, from Nat King Cole's to Stevie Wonder's to John Mayer's.
Love introduces me to his cousins.
Love knows that I love soy latte, yoga, and swimming.
Love is being trusted by Bunda dan Ayah.
Love drives miles to see me back and forth.
Love loves to make me fat when I'm sick.
Love is hanging out with my sister and treating her like his younger sister.
Love is getting along with your best friends.
Love knows why I always choose warm mineral water to drink.
Love lets me sleep when he is driving.
Love hugs me tightly and kisses my forehead.
Love teaches me to learn how to bike.
Love doesn't complain when he sees me during sick days, no bath days.
Love says sorry and means it.
Love is not oversharing on social media, but really living it up.
Love understands when I took time for myself.
Love is accompanying me to the libraries even though he doesn't like books as much as I do.
Love knows I always get sleepy because of lack of it or it is because I take some meds.
Love tells me that everything would be okay, and said he'll be there.
Love also makes mistakes.
But I learn that love
does not always have to be hurt all the time.
Love is not letting me cry myself to sleep.
Love is solving problems before I go to sleep.
Love is not always helping me do the tasks,
but love encourages me to make me believe that I can do it, go to New York City, and live up to my dream.
Love is growing together side by side.

But the most precious parts are,
love is giving me a ride to school since middle school.
Love offers me to take sessions with a therapist.
Love inspires me.
Love cooks masakan padang really good.
Love obsessed with cleanliness.
Love is learning to apologize when they made mistakes even though they are way older than I am.
Love gives me the harsh truth about the real world is messy, but it is okay to start over.
Love hugs me tightly after a month of not seeing each other.
Love is throwing bad jokes.
Love is singing in the car and doesn't care if it's terrible.
Love is loving me unconditionally for 21 years.
Love is loving me patiently.
Love is loving me faithfully.

Remember when you used to call me 'my lucky charm'?
And I don't know why it's always working -- me as your lucky charm.
And I knew that today you won the tournament.

Am I still your lucky charm, love?
I guess not. She replaced me, right?

and I hope you sunshine, warm nice tingling against your skin kind of prayers.

He noticed the dark part under my eyes,
long before I fall for his eyes.
I answered that it was because of the lack of sleep
because I had those nightmares that makes me afraid to sleep.
But he didn't know it yet.

As time went by,
as I loved him and life walked by,
the dark part grow bigger and bigger.
And he didn't ask anymore why my eyes has grown darker.
I was wondering if he knew,
that he was the cause of tears on my pillow.

I remember your shades of blue,
just like you wore your favorite jeans.
How could you love a yellow in me,
out of thousands of beautiful hues out there?

It hits me, and the memories start.
Car rides out of town,
fast food for supper,
your obsession over ice sweet tea and your favorite local sports team,
breakfast I made,
walking in the rain with my yellow coat while you soaking wet,
or when you promised to take me to your fave martabak parlor.
Or when our friends tried to pair us every time. No.
We haven't been there yet, have we?

You were surprised by how I love fries dipped in a mcflurry,
but then you loved it.
Countless midnight we breathe each other jokes,
or when you told me about your future you worried.
About promises, we are going to break.
Twice, I loved and love two souls.

You gave me your love and I let them die.
In between ice cream and books and your sweet disposition,
I did awful things, didn't I?
We haven't spoken since I went away.
Twice, and you are still there.

They said you will fall in love until it hurts, or bleeds,
or fades in time.
But I wish you knew that
I'd never forget you as long as I'd live.

Like the calm ocean,
you came in peace.
I never expected you to be here,
never rush.
It just came naturally.
I could cross you perfectly,
but I don't ever want to swim against your tide.
You are your own kind of beautiful,
with your glistening grace of my fave color.
I want to be around you,
your warm sensation against my pale skin.

I was an iceberg.
Cold, acting so tough.
But deep down you knew that I was vulnerable,
something everyone can not see.
The scorching flare is always there,
but in the end, I melt into your embrace.
Whenever the storm comes,
I always knew we have each other.

It's 3 o'clock in the morning,
awaking in a distant land from where I called home.
Too far, to be gone,
I am here at last.

It's 3 o'clock in the morning,
who needs some rest in the city that never sleeps?
So I toss my sleeping pills onto the window,
for I am no longer walk absentmindedly in a labyrinth.

It's 4 o'clock in the morning,
too much noise from the roommate's snore to block.
I quietly closed the door behind me,
escaping the confusion and worries away.

It's 4 o'clock in the morning,
as I walk to the mighty Brooklyn Bridge.
Stand still gracefully in between two places,
ignoring what goes and going in life.

Come, morning light, I whispered to myself,
flaneuring in the middle of serene darkness.
Hoping the light will come,
on this endless pavement.

It's 4 o'clock in the morning,
as I do recall those nights wishing I was here.
In the state of peaceful mind,
overjoyed for searching the rhymes of my heart.

It's suddenly 5 o'clock in the morning,
time to go home.
With a crimson tinted sky above my head,
the sun appeared and it was a brand new day.

For countless days, they had loved me as a shadow.
Seeking pleasure ignored my skin and bones.
But truly they never found the seed that grows.

For years, I've been living in men's juvenile illusions.
Fabricated by floral dresses they had always fancy,
sunshine, and contagious laughs.
But they haven't tried to read between the lines.

They kept me as their own good luck charm,
but never as a frantic soul.
Stitched by scars and ghosts,
hadn't seen me drowning from old anchors.

When the time had come,
they chose to let it bygone.

So love,
Before you try to confess,
be sure of something:
It is but a shadow and a thought that you love

Don't say you love me,
because soon enough
you'll forget the way I laugh,
                     the way I talk,
                     the way I say your name,
                     my scent when you get close to me,
                     my favorite song,
                     you will forget about me.
and soon enough,
I'll miss how you make me feel,
             How we spend many nights with our conversation till we fall asleep,
             your laugh,
             your sound,
             the way you say my name,
             your scent when you get close to me,
             how you hold my hand,
             *I'll never forget everything about you.

“The risk of love is loss and the price of loss is grief. But the pain of grief is only a shadow when compared with the pain of never risking love”

Stumbled upon this beautiful yet reflective quotation that perfectly describes the year 2022. It's been thrilling, fascinating, full of raw emotions, touching, and also the most contemplative year of my life (so far). A series of adapting, continuing, breaking, risking, learning, gaining, discovering, growing, and loving. A chain of gold of taking chances and being brave. Sometimes a stream of acid rain leaked on the apartment floor and solemn prayers between walls. And then uncovering tiny sparks of courage while my hands are being held, all throughout the great wars.

All I know it was love, all along. Even in a tiny gesture of kindness. In every separation, in every desperate attempt at lowering the ego. In knowing one's limitations. In every wide blue sky and tender sunray. In every foreign land's rain that touched my skin. In every delicate smile. In infectious laughter, it made the tummy and jaw hurt. In learning curve. In every warm bed made. In reconnecting a bridge, both sides. In every clueless, dumb clown's moment. In a song sung every ride home. In a 5-course home meal I've missed. In a moment of silence or big celebrations. In discovering intention. In every swing on the playground. In every game night. In every bill paid. In accepting the menu handed by life. In capturing every moment and tasting it. In spontaneous remarks. In searching patterns. In drawing sharp lines of boundaries. In every coda. In all the enchanting sunrises that remind me that it is okay to start again.

2022 has been lovely yet tough. I hope in any other universe, my other self has a high self-resilience to which whatever comes her way, she would never lose herself in the process. I hope she would never lose her curious mind and patience, knowing that life sometimes brings her unresolved puzzle with one or two pieces that got away for a while, until it is time to be found. She would eventually find the reason why it was meant to be lost.

This big chunk of the puzzle is what I remind myself of in 2022. I will forever hold on to these fleeting moments, until next time.

there was a time when you hold me tight,
i healed your hint of the essence.

there was a time my head was drought with the thought of you,
intoxicatingly, i couldn't remember my name.

there was a time
we tangoed this cursed dark labyrinth with its tight rope,
but baby we lost our balance.

there was a time when i fought my own demon just for you,
but it is never enough.

there was a time when our battlefield rhymed with tears and blood,
until you left me wounded.

there was a time when i used to be your single-floor home,
until you traded me with a bigger, pretty house on the market.

there was a time when we were both madly in love,
until one of us lost our mind.

there was a time when you lit me like your first cigarette,
lingeringly and without hesitation, you dropped me to the ground.

and there will be a time you are going to miss our darling life,
but in the flicker of time, i will be happier on my own.
Because baby, i am the best muse you could ever have.

There was something more
in your eyes
the way you looked back at me,
with the rain
gently falling,
and the wind
softly calling.

There was something more,
with your sweet disposition
and my wide-eyed gaze,
the smell of coffee
and its steam clouded in the air,
your jokes who never failed,
and a new company,
the way you offered your shirt
and your worried eyes.

There was something more,
but whatever it was
made the butterflies in my stomach
dance in a way
they have never danced before.

And for a moment,
I was okay;


I was happy again.

Today,
I'm writing again.
This time is not for you,
nor for my past sadness
that consumes
and kills the light in my eyes.

Today, this morning,
I looked up to the sun.
And I knew without asking
because there are things that can not be seen.

Boy, you know the less you learn.
What goes unsaid doesn't go unheard.
So today I'm writing again,
to remind you that everything healed,
eventually.

i long to spend the rest of my sunrises with you,
wrap in a blanket with our hands tangled.
my cheeks are red and warm,
while you held your coffee that I made earlier.

i long to walk for the rest of my life with you,
until our feet hurt from walking too much.
for the love of discovering the uncharted oceans,
and exploring the city we both loathe yet love.

i long to fight with you in the meanest way,
to the desperation tears until the hug you give.
the heat is there,
but we know we won't leave each other's back.

i long to crawl beside you after a hell of a day,
to listen for your stories has always been one of my salvation.
....and in that tender of a surreal night,
i long to calm the monsters' clawing inside you.

What would you do
if you running out of time,
and no one can save you?

This is not a poem.

But this morning, when my psychologist asked me, "what do you see yourself in upcoming years, with a family of your own? what is a family to you?"

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

I see myself ...
...with the love of my life, coming home from the hospital after giving birth to our healthy and happy eldest. Flash forward.
...witnessing the love of my life teaching our children to ride a bike. A joy squealing comes from theirs. Flash forward.
...recording their first big moments: first walk, first word, first book. Flash forward.
...holding our eldest on the first day of school. She/he'd be scared but they know that I'll pick them up after school for an ice cream session. Flash forward.
...having dinner in the warm dining room with the love of my life, and our 2 children. We had just come home from a long tiring day, and the four of us were telling each other about our day. After our children passed out, we both drank red wine and slowly danced a little more. Flash forward.
...doing our Sunday family tradition: it would be eating out for lunch, inviting our extended family for a dine-in, or going to a bookstore. Or simply a lazy Sunday morning when we snuggled in bed.
...sitting with them when they have their first heartbreak. Ears were open, and arms were hugged. Not judgment. Flash forward.
...
...
...
pictures come in flashes until I see myself snuggled in an armchair with the love of my life with grey hair, passing hot chocolates to my grandkids. Watching the sunrise with my kids and their spouses and their beautiful healthy children.

I want to witness every big and small moment of my loved ones, to be part of their growth, to be present, and also sit in silence with them, to be their safe haven when things go wrong and heavy. I want to celebrate every victory, big or small, or even baby steps. So I guess a family to me is a safe space to grow, to rest my bones, to be for one another, to create this tiny little tradition that my children will carry on their sleeves until they grow up. I want to witness their growth and dreams in every aspect, whether it would make them black and blue, but they know exactly they have their parents by heart. To provide them with warm embraces and warm foods they would miss when they're longing for home. I want my children to know that they are not difficult to love when this world gets hard.

I guess so far, that's a family to me.