Odessa Zara's

Sometimes, when I read about how "awesome" Zhafira Aqyla's mom or Maudy Ayunda's mom are, I can't help but think that maybe I could be more "awesome" if I had a mother like that. It makes me feel a bit bad, like I'm being ungrateful. But then I realize that it's okay to have those thoughts as long as I don't stop there and blame my own mother. The first thing I realized is that I, or we, can't choose our initial environment. We have no control over who our parents are or how they will raise us when we're young. It's true that we can't control certain things and that privileges exist. But that's not the real problem. The real problem lies in how we choose to perceive these uncontrollable situations and how we respond to them. My mother may not have the same level of formal education as Zhafira's mother. However, my mother is the one who supported her own mother and brothers. She's the one who bought me an encycloped

Living far from home has its ups and downs. My university is on a different island, which means I'm separated from my family by miles. Today, I said goodbye to my grandmother, then to my mother at the airport, and finally to my father before he headed off on a business trip. It's always tough being apart from loved ones, but the hardest goodbyes are the ones caused by death. Luckily, in Islam, we have a beautiful concept called akhirat, the afterlife. In Islam, akhirat reminds us that our time in this world is temporary, but what lies beyond is everlasting. It's like planting seeds: if we do good deeds, they outweigh the bad ones, and we earn God's mercy and approval. This means we have a shot at entering paradise, where we can be reunited with our loved ones who also lived good lives. Isn't that a beautiful idea? It's something that encourages kindness in the world and gives us hope for a forever with those we hold dear. As I reflect on these thoughts, I find s

During my time at Gramedia, I stumbled upon a heartwarming scene that left a lasting impression on me. A mother was engaging her young son, teaching him about the alphabet and encouraging him to return a book to its shelf. "Thank you. Good job," she lovingly expressed. Witnessing this exchange filled my heart with warmth and tenderness. It reminded me of the power of gentle words and positive reinforcement in nurturing a child's growth. As I immersed myself in the surroundings, another interaction caught my attention. A young elementary school student conversed with her mother in English. In that moment, a sense of admiration mingled with a tinge of envy within me. It wasn't until my third year of college that I gained the confidence to speak English fluently, and here were these young children already displaying a command of the language. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy, but also a sense of wonder at their early accomplishments. It made me reflect o

Today, I embarked on a slow-motion journey, inspired by the title of a book I just bought, "The Things You Can See When You Slow Down." Although I haven't read its pages yet, my day seemed to unfold in a leisurely pace, allowing me to appreciate the little wonders around me. As I skimmed through the latest volumes of Detective Conan and Attack on Titan at Gramedia, I couldn't help but immerse myself in the joy of reading my favorite mangas. Lost in their captivating worlds, time seemed to stand still. However, amidst the pages, a glimpse caught my eye—a book different from the mangas that surrounded me. Intrigued, I decided to purchase it, defying my usual habit of contemplation. Sometimes, certain things simply capture our attention without needing days or weeks of deliberation. Fueled by curiosity, I embarked on a search for a pen and small notes, reminiscent of my high school days. I wandered through the aisles of Gramedia, retracing the familiar steps I once took