Warmth

 

I’m in one of those hazy moments. Those times in life when everything is a little fuzzy and smothering. When I wear a sweatshirt and beg for snow and dream about Christmas trees and bonfires. I love these times. Life speeds up a bit too much for me most of the time. I need everything to go in slow motion for a while. Days in the kitchen cooking mince pies, spanakopita, and apple crumble. Lazy afternoons listening to the hum of my father’s guitar, gazing as the snowflakes stumble. These are the moments I will remember. I haven’t felt like this in a while. I miss it. Jakarta is fast. Pace. Movement. Not a minute lost. Every second a clock ticking. A minute of silence broken by motorbike. No. It’s too fast. ‘Slow down’ I want to scream at this city. Where have the seasons gone? Where are the autumn and the winter that brought this feeling to me every year? I’ve nearly forgotten the crunch of brown leaves and the thrill of falling into crisp snow. The feeling of cold rain drops on my skin and wind biting against my cheek. I didn’t think I’d miss those things. But after all, it’s the small things that you miss.

So here I am, homesick and in the bubble of haze. I never want it to leave. It’s like being in a dream. It’s like being wrapped in a blanket. It’s like the scent of fresh bread. It’s safe. I wish I could always feel like this.