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Is this love?

I thought it was just another morning; to wake up, dive into Jakarta's traffic and finish piles of job requests before deadlines. But I was wrong, the morning was not as freezing as it'd been. I woke up and see the sun's ray get through the curtain and it gave me a little warmth on my cheek. My eyes were blinking, like a hamster awaken from its longest dream. My fingers run to the window pane and softly touched it. It's warm and clear. To my surprise, summer comes sooner.

The little warmth this morning ignited a little idea in my head. It tucked me over and over like shoulder panes that sticking out, ready to be wings. Like saliva coming through my lips through a softest kiss.

Is this love that warmth my day?

Is this love? The idea of forgiving what happened and embrace the nemesis in me and in other's that infected my life.

Is this love? The idea of keeping the hope alive and keep it protected from the ancient whirlwind that kept hunting it.

Is this love? To accept that you are actually alone. To realize that even your own shadow will leave you in the dark, but loneliness would not stop you to be happy.

Is this love? To have a little flame inside you that gives you supadupa energy to keep walking.

Is this love, when you think to be happy is easy and to be happy for others is easier?

Is this love?

I don't know.
Maybe it is, maybe it is not. But why bother? Can't I just feel it while it lasts?

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love is love. marriage is another thing.

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many times I wondered that marriage is overrated. and the only reason to get married is not love, but to realise life is too hard to bear when you are all alone. because, however, marriage is a conditional love. hubby once said, marriage is not all fancy and glitter. the lowest it can get is, to keep functioning and it will survive. how both parties can be functional one to another, is another story.

to ariawan, a guy of mine,
the one who always wake me up from my princessy dreams. love you.



Three hours late.

2 AM and I stepped in to the house. Hubby was waiting for me. This was not the first time, and not the latest hour I had ever experienced with over time.

"See you soon Bunda. Or at 8, or at 9, or at 10, or at 11 like you said you would be late." Said my son.

I smiled as I entered the house. I smelled home. I saw my beautiful mess. As I picked up some toys on the floor, I imagined what games the kids had played today. There was a drawing, mini ceramics pots, not too chaotic for kids who were left with nini and aki without nannies.

I also saw their time tables, with some check marks on the list. Those that they weren't checked was the responsibility to wash their own dishes. I saw some dirty cups piling up. I saw the microwave's door left half-opened, a baking sheet and a knife. I wonder what they have cooked.
I also saw minecraft was in active window and some search on youtube and google.

Getting home in this hour and not seeing their faces but seeing all the mess the…

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