Diary of a Sister

tegrity unscathed once this was ended. COVID swept the world and watching it from Jakarta, the city we lived in, we once thought it was a thing for the faraway places. Today, Indonesia had one o

ing into tomorrow. From thinking about where to vacation, we wondered what to eat tomorrow. Not that our life quality had been reduced to that of the destitute's, but if we had to li

to back covers, three hundred pages in one day, to be interrupted only by the essentials. I wanted to be taken to a world that was not mine, within wh

his seven-year-old sister Bea make her breakfast cereal. Most of the time they fought over small things like who should pour the milk first. Children. But not today. Jude, my six-foot-tall hus

was considered when we didn't want to spend much on food. Today, it was a treat. Something that must be plann

r wish with her brother's because today they were soul mates. You could tempt me with many things, and I was rather sure I would stand tall

shackled and took me prisone

book from my library shelves, one that I had read many times over

nning out of the playroom to where I was lounging with my book, followed by his sister who had b

rong and tempting. As Jude opened the boxes, Bo and Bea were trying to get a look at what was inside. They knew it was chicken, but they still scrutinized it with the cu

are sight of my two children enjoying their McDonald's fried chicken stopped

usily blabbering about her Roblox game to whoever was patient enough to listen to her long description. It was Sunday discount day from the delivery company, I got the 30% off packa

hts today. But witnessing the happiness of my chil

r call a brother anymore. We used to be tight as siblings but drifted apart as we each started a family of our own, especially after I married lastly

hey were vacationing on one of the paradise Gilis (islands) in Lombok on that same day. Staying at a five-star hotel, dining on steak, lobster and whatnot, pampered by the luxury that just a couple of years back was not a

ed to show his disdain over lavish birthday celebrations. Probably he was an old school who believed that celebrations must always be over some achievement. While I agreed with him intellectually, not so

at belon

I felt a rush of warm emotion and the feeling of being safe whenever I thought of him. If Dungi was the South Pole, then my Brother was the North Pole, if Dungi wa

Donald's chicken, stripped of all meat, juxtaposed with the image of Dungi and Pilos drinking wine, feasting on overpriced mea

mo