I’m always confused when asked whether I’m a mountain person or beach person. Neither. I’m a city person. What’s wrong with that? But what’s wrong with not answering? Do we really have to answer every single question? Isn’t not answering an answer?
Antariksa, At night, when I look at you sleeping, I feel like writing a love letter. Long long letter. About the past, the present, and the future. About how scared I am and happy at the same time. About promises I might not be able to keep; to protect you from mosquitoes and bad news. About promises I hope I’m able to keep; to read more stories for you and to take you to Disneyland. About how sorry I am for being imperfect. About sad songs I used to play. About places I used to visit and people I used to meet. About how I feel so distant from everything else. Antariksa, I promise I’ll do my best, but maybe the long long letter must wait. Love, Ibu