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Doomsday

There might be three or five amongst us who dreamed about doomsday at least once in 2012. Me myself, have dreamed it twice as far as I remember. The dream itself always involves beautifully illuminated skies, huge planets that bang before my eyes.

To some people, they already given in with the doomsday.
Not because they are ready, but more to que sera sera point of view.
What ever will be, will be.

Apparently, what I had in my dream reflected the way I feel about the doomsday itself.
In my dream, I was always with my closest ones whose in real life they are the people why I live for.

To me, doomsday is neither about going to hell or heaven.
Not about how ready I am for the judgement day.
Doomsday means being separated with people I love that I do not know when I will see them again.
Doomsday means loosing my child and forgetting all my dreams for him. Missing all the chats and laughter we usually have.

No matter how ready you are for the doomsday, nothing will make you ready to be separated with your  children. And I wish doomsday will not be happening soon.

I think all mothers will agree with me.

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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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