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Let's take a step back


Life should not be that hard. Whether if you are a little kid and doesn’t know what to do or whether you are old and sick, life could have been simpler after all.

Why do people get married in the first place? Why do people have kids in the end? Why do people work for a living, but they don’t have a life? Why do people busy with themselves and forgetting that they are part of their family, a root of who they are and where they are from.

Every family has its own story. Like a unique code that’s entitled on our last name. Unfortunately we only remember the story as opening and ending, leaving the rest as stories of our own.

Why when we reach productive era, we act like there are so many important things to do? As if we are the president who run the country, as if someone is going to die if we skip a day from our office. Why do we always lack of time for our parents as if they will always be young and healthy as ever?

Our love to our family might last forever, but not their physical. 

Far we have gone, today. Let's take a step back for a while, to embrace where we belong. To be home.

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love is love. marriage is another thing.

of all the things I ever wondered, ... I think I never wonder whom my kids will be married to. or to picture myself holding grand babies. not just a not yet, I think it is simply too hard to bear and too absurd to think of. but then I promise myself. I promise I will not ever push titan and luna to get married or even if they are married; I will not ask them when to have kids.

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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