Remembering What Matters
Yesterday was one of those days that reminded me why I love being present in real life. I met Bunga, a good old friend of mine, for a long overdue catch-up at The People’s Cafe. We talked non-stop for two and a half hours: from personal updates, projects, religion, family, trip, to powerful wanderlog app demo, lol. Just the two of us, no distractions, no scrolling. Pure, heartfelt conversation. By the time is running out, my husband dropped by to bring a gift I had forgotten to bring earlier for Bunga’s son. Shortly after, Bunga’s husband also came, along with their 10-year-old boy. The sweetest moment was when the very first thing their son said to his mom was a sincere apology because he didn’t get the test score he was hoping for. No cover-up, no delay, just “sorry” and a confession. I found that moment so pure. It showed the kind of openness and emotional trust that’s rare these days, even among adults.
Another interesting thing happened at the same time was when I saw Okki, not far from our table. He had been working quietly on his laptop ever since I arrived. Okki and I have been friends for years, I knew him from my husband. So when my husband came to pick me up, they had a quick friendly chat. And turned out, Bunga also knew Okki, even though not in person, but through Instagram. She follows him and was surprised to see him in real life. So, of course, I connected the two of them. FYI, just a few days earlier, Okki had shared an article that deeply moved me. It became the final push I needed to go on a full social media hiatus. Hence, I deleted all my social media apps and decided to return to long-form writing here on my blog. Back to where it all began.
I had already made plans with other friends to meet up again soon, face-to-face, heart-to-heart. Real conversations, where both people are fully present, offer meaning and insight that no quick “like” or “LOL” comment can replace. These moments feed the soul. That’s why I’ve decided to keep writing here, documenting these precious experiences. I’ve done this since 2001, and I know how powerful my own writing can be in helping me remember. Thanks to this blog and my vivid storytelling, my memories don’t fade. They live on, not just in my mind, but in words I can revisit anytime.
So here I am again: offline, grounded, and deeply grateful. If you’re reading this, maybe it’s time to reconnect in real life too. Let’s make memories worth writing about.
