To be loved, to be expected.

(This was written on my phone notes last Sunday)

I asked the young lady what time will she be off work and she said 8. I imagined being in her shoes, so young and single, she gets to go home and do whatever her heart pleases; maybe tapau some burger tepi jalan or nasi bungkus with teh ais, go home straight to the couch, watch anything she wants on Netflix, and later sleep uninterruptedly. Ah how carefree her life must be; nobody demanding anything, no little people needing attention.

But later the day I went home to my little people; the two stooges ran out of the house happily to greet us when they saw our car. Spent some time helping the eldest with his homework, gave Noah a massage, watched the TV with Saif while playing with the baby. And I thought to myself; this is not too shabby after all. At the end of the day, all this tiny seemingly insignificant details of our lives, they are what really matters.

“What a miracle it is to have people to come home to every day.

To be loved.

To be expected.

I thought I appreciated every moment, but sitting here in the cold, I know I took it all for granted. And how could I not? Until everything topples, we have no idea what we actually have, how precariously and perfectly it all hangs together.” ― Blake Crouch, Dark Matter