Monday felt familiar in the way Mondays always do. My husband disappeared into his marathon meetings, and I faced my own mountain of work that had quietly grown over the weekend. Neither of us had the energy to cook. And with our eldest away in Lampung, the house felt both lighter and a little too quiet. So we surrendered to the simplest decision of the day: let’s eat out.
For lunch we tried Omah Mbah Wie, a little place that serves homestyle dishes that taste like they were cooked by someone’s loving grandmother. The moment we stepped inside, it felt like being transported to a village far from the polished streets of BSD. The wooden chairs, the gentle clatter, the warm aroma of spices... all of it wrapped around us like a memory. The food was comforting in a way only home cooking can be. We ate until we were full, sipped our drinks slowly, and somehow the bill was only seventy-two thousand rupiah. I even had leftovers to take home. It made me smile, that simple abundance.
By dinner, neither of us had magically turned into energetic chefs. So out we went again, this time to Teraskota. Funny how after years of living in BSD, it took us this long to finally step inside. We ended up at Bakso Lapangan Tembak, savoring bowls of warm broth and springy meatballs. Another good choice, another pleasant surprise. Seventy-three thousand rupiah. Two meals in a row that were kind to both the stomach and the wallet. Life’s small blessings.
Since we were already there, we let the evening stretch a little longer and watched a movie. We chose Pangku, Reza Rahadian’s tribute to his mother who raised him alone. The story followed a single mom fighting through one hardship after another just to keep her child afloat. I cried. And cried. And cried. By the end my face looked like a soft, swollen sunset. But there was beauty in the ache. The kind of film that reminds you of courage, sacrifice, and the quiet power of love.
We watched it in one of those CGV couple seats, the kind without dividers so you can lean on each other. The chairs weren’t exactly luxurious, but they were good enough. Warm enough. Close enough. Maybe that’s all we needed.
It wasn’t a spectacular Monday. No big accomplishments, no grand adventures. Just work, food, a movie, and the comfort of being together. But somehow, it became one of those days I want to tuck into my memory gently, like a small postcard from an ordinary life that still feels extraordinary in its own way.
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