Today felt heavier than most, but I’m still here, still moving.

Dear me,
Some days weigh more than others.

Today, it came in numbers — six million to be paid, and my pockets were quiet. I borrowed from my son’s small savings, with the promise to give it back soon.

It’s not just the money.

It’s the quiet guilt.

The hope that tomorrow will be lighter,

the reminder,

that I’m still finding my way. But this too will pass.

One day, I’ll tell him we made it through.

Just another regular day.
Just another regular rain.
Yet somehow, both found their way into my quiet heart.

The sky did not roar, the world did not change — only the soft reminder that even ordinary moments can linger, like raindrops that refuse to dry.

Dear me,
Today felt like stepping into the future.

At the Tax Academy in Singapore, I saw how the Inland Revenue Authority uses AI

Not as a buzzword, but as a quiet, relentless force shaping their tax system.

The precision, the order, the clarity.

It made me realize how far we can still grow. I left the room with notes full of ideas, and a heart quietly whispering:

We can do this too.

Dear Gio,
One day you will read this and know how much you were loved long before you understood the meaning of love

Today you said “Mama” for the very first time
It was soft
Almost unsure
But in that single sound our world stood still

All the sleepless nights
The whispered prayers
The quiet sacrifices
Suddenly felt worth every moment

Your mother’s eyes filled with tears
I felt something in my heart I cannot put into words
A mix of relief
Joy
And awe

That one little word carried every hope we ever had for you
And every ounce of love we never knew we could feel

One day when you are older I hope you will understand
Some of the most life changing moments arrive quietly
In the smallest ways
And remind us that love has been here all along

Dear past, present, and future me,

These notes are fragments of who we have been and who we are becoming.
In dreams, we have met ourselves, catching glimpses of both endings and beginnings.
One thing is certain: our journey is extraordinary.

Remember this. Prove it.
And do not falter.

Dear Gio,
One day you will read this and understand what you gave me today

You said “Papa” for the first time
Just two syllables
Soft and unsteady
But it broke me open in ways I cannot describe

Every sleepless night I held you close
Every silent prayer I whispered into the dark
Every hope I buried deep inside my chest
All of them rose up in that single sound

I wanted to laugh
I wanted to cry
I wanted to stop time so I could stay in that moment forever

Hearing you call me Papa felt like being seen for the first time
Not just as a father
But as someone you trust
Someone you reach for

Someday when you are grown
I hope you know how much I needed that word
How it healed every tired piece of me
How it turned love into something infinite

Dear Gio,
Today you sat in your baby chair for the very first time
A tiny throne for a new chapter of growing up

Your mother cooked for you with so much care
Rice
Salmon
Broccoli
Mozzarella cheese
So simple yet so full of love it felt like a feast fit for a king

You did not know what it meant
But you opened your mouth to new flavors
New textures
A new way of living

Someday you will eat countless meals
Some rushed
Some alone
Some in celebration
But I hope you will always remember
That the first one began here
In your mother’s hands
In our quiet joy
In the warmth of home

Dear Gio,
Today you went to church for the first time
You were in your mother’s arms
The doors opened wide and the soft light welcomed you in

I was not there
I could only imagine the quiet of the pews
The faint sound of hymns
The way heaven must have leaned closer that day
To watch you arrive

Someday you will learn what faith means
Someday you will speak your own prayers
And when that day comes
I hope we will be there together
Your mother
You
And me

Today it was enough
That you were there
That you were held
That you were loved

Dear Giorno,
You are three months old today
Your eyes are still learning to see the world
Colors are soft and shapes are blurred
But I know you see us
Your parents
Even through the haze

Lately, you have started to smile
A quiet smile, small but so warm it melts every tired hour we carry
I wonder if you know what it does to us
How a simple curl of your lips can quiet every worry we have

Your head lifts higher now when you lie on your belly
Your tiny voice makes soft sounds, little ooo and ahh
You turn your head toward our voices
As if already learning who will always answer when you call

One day, when you can see clearly
I hope you will know
That from the very start
We were already smiling back at you

Dear Gio,
This morning I left Jakarta before sunrise
The city still half asleep while I carried only one thought
To see you

Your mother had taken you to the doctor
I cannot remember if it was for a vaccine or for your circumcision
Only that my heart needed to be there with you

When I arrived you were resting in Eyang Tin’s arms
Breathing softly
Unaware of the world
Unaware of me

I held you and waited in silence
Minutes before the doctor called your name
Your eyelids trembled open

Slow blinks
Tiny eyes searching my face
As if asking
Who is this
Why does this face feel familiar
Why does it ache in my chest to see him

And then
Recognition

You knew me
Your father

You smiled
And in that quiet smile I felt something collapse and bloom all at once
Every mile I had flown
Every night I had missed you
Every prayer I had whispered in the dark

It was all here
In your small awakening
In the way you finally saw me