Was It Really Just Another Saturday?

A reflection on a family-filled Saturday. From driving lessons to hockey games, and finding quiet meaning in the rhythm of ordinary life.

Maybe the point of weekends isn’t to rest, but to remember how it feels to live without rushing. — Nuniek Tirta Sari

After a week filled with one event after another, I was secretly hoping for a lazy Saturday. You know the kind: slow breakfast, sunlight through the window, maybe a nap that stretches a little too long. But instead, our Saturday unfolded in its own rhythm; not slow, not rushed, just quietly full.

By noon, we were already on the move. My husband, as always, behind the wheel. My daughter in the backseat. We discussed about why a college student decided to end his life after being bullied, and how it connects to depression. It was quite a heavy conversation, but felt like a small exercise in shared empathy.

First stop: dropping off our eldest for her driving lesson. There was something funny about the irony: she’s learning to drive, while I’ve successfully avoided doing so for decades. I watched her climb into the car with her instructor, trying to look confident but maybe, secretly nervous.

Next, we dropped off a bag of stuff for our youngest, who had hockey practice with her friends. She came rushed to me at Uniqlo like a small tornado: energy at full speed, waving goodbye before sprinting off. And just like that, it was only me and my husband again. #PacaranMingguIni, as I like to call it.

We went to the cinema, choosing The Stolen Girl over Rangga dan Cinta. It turned out to be based on a true story: a mother’s relentless, eight-year search for her kidnapped daughter. It wasn’t the light movie I expected, but somehow it gave me a relief that we have an ordinary life with our daughters safe with us.

After the movie, we went for an early dinner with our eldest at Sukiya, using our Pluxee voucher. It was one of those modest, comforting meals. Nothing fancy, just good beef, good rice, and that quiet satisfaction of having made a thrifty but good choice.

Then we went to the field to watch our youngest play hockey. The contrast from the movie couldn’t have been sharper: our daughter is safe there playing with her friends. We watched from the sidelines and took some documentations.

Our girl in green jacket in front of the instructor

By the time we drove back home, the car was filled with that peaceful, post-family-day silence. The kind that feels full rather than empty. My husband focused on the road, our daughters chatting softly in the back. Outside, the lights blurred into soft gold streaks. Inside, I just sat quietly, feeling that deep, unspoken gratitude that comes after a long, good day. Not perfect, but real.

Back at the apartment, everyone naturally drifted into their own corners of the night. Our youngest had an assignment to finish. “Please don’t turn on the TV,” she warned us with that teenage authority that sounds both adorable and terrifying. My husband disappeared into his quiet zone (which usually means scrolling Threads, pretending to read the news). I lay down, thinking I’d just rest my eyes for a bit, and, of course, instantly fell asleep.

When I woke up, it was past midnight. I couldn’t go back to sleep, so I reached for my phone, eventually opened Instagram and posted a short reel.

No big lessons today. No dramatic endings. Just one more Saturday with family.

But maybe that’s the lesson after all. That life doesn’t always need to be meaningful to be beautiful. Sometimes it just needs to be lived fully, presently, with people you love, even when you’re tired, or the movie leaves you emotionally wrung out.

Maybe the small, repetitive days are the ones that hold everything together. Maybe what we call “ordinary days” are actually the glue that keeps love steady and life whole.

Saturday, 25 October 2025

Nuniek Tirta Sari

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