Catatan Dita

Menyejarah hidup dengan menuliskan kisah.

[jndmmsyhd]

"Semoga Allah menggantikan untuk kita dengan sesuatu yang lebih baik darinya" (Al-Qalam: 32)

Singkat, tapi bikin nangis..

Coba hilangkan penyesalanmu dengan membaca ayat ini pelan-pelan.

Atas setiap kesempatan yang hilang, pekerjaan yang terlepas, kekasih yang berhenti menggenggam tanganmu di tengah jalan, atau setiap sahabat yang wajahnya dulu kamu anggap indah namun kini berpaling dingin.

Karena takdir Allah, semuanya baik. Baik yang membuatmu tersenyum, maupun yang membuatmu menangis.

Tidak ada kehilangan yang terjadi kecuali untuk mengeluarkanmu dari luka yang lebih dalam. Jika kamu memahami hikmah-Nya, bersyukurlah. Jika belum mengerti hikmah-Nya, bersabarlah.

Sesungguhnya, segala keputusan Allah adalah kebaikan, entah ia datang dalam bentuk yang lembut, atau dalam rupa yang melukai.

Maka, tenangkan hatimu. Setiap kali sesuatu pergi, katakanlah dengan lembut:

عَسَىٰ رَبُّنَاۤ أَن یُبۡدِلَنَا خَیۡرࣰا مِّنۡهَاۤ...

"Semoga Allah memberikan ganti kepada kita dengan pada apa yang lebih baik daripada yang ini..."

Ada seseorang, yang tenang dan penuh prasangka baik begitu maksimal, saat ia ditanyai soal pekerjaannya.

"What do you think if we don't hire you?"

"It's okay. Thats means Allah will put someone better than me for this place, and put me somewhere better than this place"

Ikhtiarnya maksimal, dan tawakkalnya lebih maksimal. Gapapa, insyaallah semuanya akan baik-baik saja :')

@jndmmsyhd

[ibuabuy]

Day 30 - Foundation

When I think about my childhood, there are so many little things I feel grateful for. I am grateful for Mama, who was always there in the quiet and noisy moments of growing up. I am grateful for the books I devoured, page by page, that carried me into worlds far beyond my little room and shaped the way I see life today.

I am grateful for the hardships too—the ones that felt heavy at the time but ended up teaching me how strong I could be. They were small lessons in resilience that I only truly understood later. And I am grateful for the courses I had the chance to attend, the spaces where I learned new things and discovered sides of myself I might never have known otherwise.

Looking back, it is these little things that painted my childhood with meaning. They may have seemed ordinary then, but now I see them as treasures that built the foundation of who I am.

[ibuabuy]

Day 29 - Living My Dreams

When I was little, adulthood seemed like such a magical stage of life. To me, being an adult meant simple freedoms: going anywhere without my parents tagging along, eating two packs of instant noodles without being scolded, going to college, having a job, buying a “grown-up” novel at the bookstore, and riding a motorcycle by myself.

Those were the things that defined adulthood in the eyes of little Dita. And now, looking back, I smile because I have experienced all of them. Each of those small wishes has quietly come true. Yet if I could choose, sometimes I still wish I could return to childhood—those days when life was as easy as eating whatever was served at the table, without worrying about bills or responsibilities.

But growing up also has its own sweetness. There is a certain pride in paying for my own meals, in choosing my own path, and in creating a life that belongs only to me. Childhood gave me the dreams, but adulthood gives me the chance to live them.

Maybe that is what makes adulthood not so scary after all. It is not only about responsibilities; it is also about little joys, small freedoms, and the happiness of realizing that the wishes of our younger selves are finally being lived.

[ibuabuy]

Day 28 - The Untold Story

When I was little, there was one thing I kept hidden from my parents: the stories I used to write. It was not because those stories were bad or meaningless. The truth is, I often felt embarrassed by them. They were filled with the kind of imagination only a school kid could have, heavily inspired by the teenlit books I used to read.

Whenever I look back at those stories now, I cannot help but cringe. The plotlines were exaggerated, the characters overly dramatic, and the dialogue awkward in ways that make me laugh at myself. Still, those messy drafts were a part of me.

Today, I realize that I am the sum of all the versions of myself that came before, including the one who wrote those “cringe” stories. They shaped my creativity, my voice, and even my courage to put my thoughts into words. What I once hid has now become a quiet reminder that growth is built on every step, even the embarrassing ones.

[ibuabuy]

Day 27 - Walking Distance School

I was born a Gen Z kid, but I still had the chance to experience school the old-fashioned way—with chalk and blackboards. Looking back, I consider myself lucky for that. For nine years, throughout elementary and middle school, I studied at the very place where my grandfather worked as a principal.

At first glance, people might think that gave me some kind of privilege. But the truth is far from it. My grades rose and fell, my ranking went up and down, and I was never the type of student who excelled in every subject. If I’m being honest, I probably only ever mastered two or three. And you know what? That was perfectly fine.

The only real perk I had back then was the location—school was just a short walk from home. It felt almost like homeschooling, only with classmates and uniforms. Yet, even with that convenience, I still managed to be late sometimes.

Looking back now, those little imperfections make me smile. They remind me that school wasn’t about perfection or privilege—it was about growing, stumbling, and learning along the way.

[ibuabuy]

Day 26 - Growing Older

When I was seven, my birthday felt like magic. The house was filled with family and friends, there were games, laughter, a birthday cake, and that warm chaos that lingers sweetly in memory. I still remember how my hair was styled—curled into funny little “sausages.” I didn’t quite understand it at the time, but the photos make me laugh now. The table was piled with gifts: books, lunch boxes, and other tokens of childhood joy. Back then, birthdays meant nothing more than a celebration where the birthday child was happy, the guests were happy, and everyone went home happy.

But growing older changes the lens. These days, I find myself hesitant to celebrate birthdays with the same grandeur. After all, each passing year isn’t just about adding candles—it’s also a reminder that I’m growing older, inching closer to an inevitable end. What is there to truly celebrate, I sometimes wonder, when I feel like I haven’t yet become what I hoped for? My birthdays have shifted into quieter moments, not of festivity, but of reflection. Instead of thinking about marrying young, I think about dying young—and how I should be preparing for that far more earnestly.

If seven-year-old me and twenty-three-year-old me could meet, perhaps they would sit together for a while. One would bring laughter, innocence, and the joy of balloons; the other would bring the weight of awareness and the wisdom of mortality. Maybe, in that conversation, they would both find balance.

[ibuabuy]

Day 25 - VOC Parenting

Kalau VOC dulu punya Heeren Zeventien—dewan elit yang duduk manis ngatur jalannya perusahaan—maka masa kecilku juga punya versi sendiri. Bedanya, bukan tujuh belas orang, tapi cukup dua: Mama dan Ayah. Bedanya lagi, keputusan mereka lebih saklek dari pasal kontrak dagang mana pun.

Setiap kesalahan kecil rasanya langsung disidang di “majlis keluarga.” Pecahin piring? Vonisnya: digerujuk air sampai megap-megap kayak ikan koi keangkat dari kolam. Kaki? Udah kayak pelanggan tetap sebatang lidi—rasanya pedes-pedes sedap, paket special edition tanpa garansi. Dicubit? Itu udah cemilan sehari-hari. Ngomong kasar? Auto dapat menu cabai rawit, fresh from the dapur.

Dan jangan lupakan bab favorit: kalau ketahuan nggak ngerjain PR atau nilai jeblok, maka Hereen Zeventien versi keluarga langsung bertransformasi jadi penceramah. Bayangin seminar motivasi gratis, tiga jam nonstop, tanpa konsumsi. Rasanya pingin banget ngekos aja, biar bisa bebas dari kuliah “parenting VOC style.”

Apakah dunia runtuh? Nggak juga. Tapi jelas aja, jadi korban “VOC parenting” itu bukan pengalaman yang manis. Dan justru karena itulah sekarang, setelah jadi guru, aku pilih jalur beda. Hukuman fisik? Big no. Kalau pun harus ngasih punishment, ya yang ringan-ringan saja. Karena aku pernah jadi anak di kursi sidang Heeren Zeventien, dan percayalah… itu bukan warisan yang layak diteruskan.

[ibuabuy]

Day 24 – Istana Kaca

My earliest taste of an English translated novel was The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls—an unforgettable experience that left a mark on me.

Every month, Mom and Dad would take me to Gramedia, and I’d wander the aisles alone, letting my fingers graze row after row of spines. I’d pick books at random, and one day, The Glass Castle snagged my attention and refused to let go.

The Glass Castle is a memoir published in 2005 by American author Jeannette Walls. It recounts her unconventional childhood in a deeply flawed yet strangely vibrant nomadic family. The title refers to her father’s grand, unfulfilled promise to build a dream home—a “glass castle”—for his kids. Although the house never materializes, it becomes a lasting symbol of both hope and illusion that defined Jeannette’s upbringing.

The memoir opens with a searing memory of three-year-old Jeannette setting herself on fire while cooking hot dogs—an image of both literal and symbolic ignition. That moment, and the parents’ unconventional approach to responsibility, set the tone for the family’s chaotic, nomadic lifestyle—constantly moving to avoid debt, surviving in desert towns, and clinging to whimsy even in hardship.

At its heart, The Glass Castle explores themes like resilience in the face of adversity, the entangled bonds of family loyalty, and the tension between illusion and reality—growing up and recognizing the fantasy for what it is.

Reading The Glass Castle felt like discovering a mirror: my own fascination with stories, the longing for connection, and the search for stability in a world that sometimes felt uncertain. It was a powerful reminder that books can shape us—not just through the stories they tell, but through how they make us feel about ourselves.

When I sat down to write this reflection, I just found out that The Glass Castle has been adapted into a film. My childhood book, now living on the screen—what a full circle moment. I’m so ready to watch it, can’t wait at all!

[ibuabuy]

Day 23 - The Quiet That Grew

Inside the house, right in front of my books and my laptop, is where I have always felt most at home. Since childhood, I’ve carried the quiet soul of an introvert. While others might have found joy in playing outside or building circles of friends, I was content with drowning myself in stories. Back then, I could finish three KKPK books in a single day, savoring every page as if they were windows to worlds far wider than my own. Looking back, I realize that much of my so-called weirdness grew from there—from living more in words than in crowds.

As I grew older, my devotion to stories shifted. I found Wattpad: sometimes as a reader, sometimes as a writer. My writings were unpolished, often melodramatic in the way only a teenager’s heart can be, but they were mine. And in being “chronically online,” I discovered another kind of companionship. I built friendships across screens, with people who understood me in ways that those nearby never did.

During my school years, my life moved in narrow circles—classes, then lessons outside of school, and little else. My world of friendship remained small. And yet, life loves its ironies. The girl who once sat beside me in elementary tutoring is now my colleague at work. A simple, unexpected turn—proof that even in a quiet life, plot twists have their way of finding us.

[ibuabuy]

Day 22 - Legacy

Dulu ada satu sosok yang selalu aku ingat—namanya Bang Syahri, guru bimbelku di Adzkia. Beliau ngajar sejarah. Orangnya sabar banget, padahal kalau aku ingat lagi, teman-teman sekelasku dulu lumayan ribut dan suka bikin kelas berisik. Tapi Bang Syahri tetap tenang, nggak gampang marah.

Yang khas dari beliau itu tulisannya di papan. Rapi banget, gampang dibaca, dan bisa memenuhi satu papan tulis penuh. Sampai sekarang, sebagai guru, aku masih belum bisa meniru kerapian itu.

Tapi yang paling membekas, cara Bang Syahri menjelaskan sejarah. Mata pelajaran yang sering dianggap membosankan bisa berubah jadi cerita seru kalau keluar dari mulut beliau. Rasanya kayak lagi dengerin kisah, bukan sekadar hafalan. The real guru sejarah—penjaga makna. Wkwkwk.

Bang Syahri jadi salah satu inspirasiku juga. Dari cara beliau mengajar, aku jadi kepikiran kalau sejarah memang bisa jadi hidup, bisa jadi seru, asal diajarin dengan hati. Dan mungkin, itu salah satu alasan kenapa aku akhirnya memilih pendidikan sejarah sebagai jurusan kuliahku.

Dan setelah memilih pendidikan sejarah, aku nggak pernah menyesal. Ternyata sejarah itu memang menyenangkan. Sayangnya, lagi-lagi kita harus berhadapan dengan kenyataan: lingkungan dan pemerintah belum bisa menyediakan lapangan pekerjaan yang baik, terutama untuk guru. Jadi ya, segala rencana yang mau kita implementasikan nggak bisa berjalan dengan baik.

[ibuabuy]

Day 21 - Buket Basreng Pink

Hari itu, setelah perjalanan panjang menuju sidang S1, aku nggak nyangka bakal pulang membawa sesuatu yang begitu sederhana tapi berarti: sebuah buket basreng berwarna pink. 🌸

Bukan sekadar basreng, tapi cerita kecil yang nyambung dari momen lama—waktu aku dan Syifa duduk bareng, ngemil basreng yang dia bawa entah dari Malang atau Surabaya, aku sendiri udah lupa. Yang aku ingat cuma rasanya: asin, pedas, gurih… dan hangat, karena dimakan sambil saling cerita life update setelah lama nggak ketemu.

Beberapa hari sebelum sidang, aku sempat bilang santai ke Syifa, “Aku pengen kali beli basreng kayak kau bawa kemarin, di mana ya pesennya?” Tapi obrolan itu berhenti di situ, aku pun nggak jadi beli. Kupikir selesai begitu aja.

Ternyata, di hari sidang, Syifa datang dengan kejutan: buket basreng berwarna pink. Lucu sekali, sederhana sekali, tapi penuh arti. Pink—warna yang aku suka, warna yang bikin jantungku hangat bahkan di tengah tegangnya sidang.

Kadang, bukan tentang besar atau mahalnya hadiah. Tapi tentang seseorang yang ingat detail kecil, lalu mengubahnya jadi sesuatu yang manis. Dan untukku, buket basreng pink itu akan selalu jadi cerita yang nggak terlupa.

[ibuabuy]

Day 20 - Danau Supervulkanik

Dalam pandanganku, salah satu bentang alam mahakarya Tuhan yang paling luar biasa adalah Danau Toba. Ia bukan hanya sekadar danau, tapi sebuah keajaiban. Danau Toba adalah danau vulkanik terbesar di dunia, terbentuk dari letusan supervulkanik sekitar 74.000 tahun yang lalu. Letusan itu kemudian meninggalkan kawah besar yang perlahan terisi air selama ribuan tahun, membentuk danau yang kita kenal hari ini. Lalu, aktivitas magma di bawah bumi menciptakan Pulau Samosir, seakan menegaskan betapa dahsyat sekaligus indahnya kekuatan Allah. Setiap kali aku mengingat proses itu, aku merasa kagum. Tadabbur alam, mencari makna Tuhan di setiap tempat yang kita datangi, adalah salah satu cara sederhana untuk mensyukuri penciptaan alam semesta.

Danau Toba juga punya memori tersendiri bagiku. Aku masih ingat waktu SD, liburan sekolah kami habiskan di sana. Saat itu aku sedang sakit infeksi paru-paru, tapi tetap ikut berangkat karena keinginan untuk berlibur lebih besar dari rasa sakit itu sendiri. Kami bahkan membawa seperangkat alat uap agar aku bisa tetap berobat selama perjalanan. Anehnya, justru kondisi itu membuat kenangan liburan terasa lebih berwarna.

Kami berkeliling naik kapal feri, melihat Batu Gantung yang melegenda sebagai wujud seorang perempuan yang menolak dijodohkan. Dari situ, kami lanjut ke Tomok, melihat Sigale-gale, patung kayu yang bisa menari dengan iringan musik tradisional Batak, lalu membeli beberapa souvenir. Perjalanan itu bukan sekadar wisata, tapi potongan cerita yang menempel kuat dalam ingatan kecilku.

Bertahun-tahun kemudian, saat berkuliah PPG aku ditempatkan di Siantar, Danau Toba hanya satu jam dari kosku. Bersama teman-teman PPG yang datang dari berbagai daerah, aku kembali ke Danau Toba. Kami menyeberang dan menginap di Samosir, dan aku menyadari sesuatu: walaupun aku sudah cukup sering ke Danau Toba, rasa kagum itu tetap sama. Bahkan, aku ikut merasakan keterpesonaan yang sama seperti teman-temanku yang baru pertama kali melihatnya.

Momen "lengah dikit gas dantob".

Di akhir semester PPG, kunjunganku ke Danau Toba semakin sering. Walaupun tidak selalu menyeberang ke Samosir, waktu-waktu di pinggiran danau tetap begitu menyenangkan. Ada tawa, obrolan, dan momen sederhana yang ternyata sangat berarti.

Sekarang, ketika menuliskan ini, aku jadi semakin rindu. Rindu pada Danau Toba, pada suasananya, dan pada orang-orangnya. Seolah ada bagian dari diriku yang selalu ingin kembali, untuk sekali lagi merasakan hangat dan tenang yang sama di hadapan mahakarya Tuhan itu.

[ibuabuy]

Day 19 - My Ago, October 31 2013

Me on my seventh grade with my friends.

Notes: Lagu untuk cerita ini adalah First Love - Nikka Costa (Cover by Ardhito) karena vibesnya emang cinta pertama yang lucu dan berkesan banget (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

Tema day 19 adalah cinta masa kecil, i'm waiting for this day. Karena ga sabar mau nulis tentang ini. Memberikan sedikit porsi for my first love diantara ribuan memoriku.

Salah satu chapter paling aku suka dalam hidupku adalah masa-masa cinta monyetku (i don't know why they called it cinta monyet, but it's hilarious). To my first bf— i don't know if i should call you my ex-bf or close friend of mine?

It was 2013, 7th grade. In my school, we had 2 classes of 7th grade. That boy—let’s just call him "Ago" (name disguised), since we’re still following each other on Instagram. Ago—I didn’t know much about him at first, because we came from different elementary schools. But since the number of students in our year wasn’t many, we eventually got to know each other. Long story short, Ago and I became good friends. After a while, we exchanged numbers and started texting. At first, it was just about daily life, how school was (even though our classes were next to each other), and gossiping about friends. It was fun.

Until one day, a close friend of Ago told me, “Dita, Ago likes you!” At first, I didn’t believe him because he always joked about everything, so I didn’t take it seriously. But the day eventually came—Ago confessed to me. He told me that he really liked me. I was so confused back then, because I had never been in any kind of “romance” relationship before. But I knew he was so kind, and he never said any bad words to me. So, I thought that was enough reason to accept his confession of love.

The day before October 31, 2013, with my witty mind, I told him: “Yaudah! Besok liat aku, kalo aku pake jarum pentul warna pink berarti aku terima. Tapi kalo nggak, ya nggak.” I sent that message at night. I was too shy to directly tell him that I accepted him.

So, the day came. October 31, 2013 (I still remember the date because he was such a good person to me). I wore a pink pin on my hijab, came to school, and showed it to him. Yeah, I was so silly back then. And that’s it—the relationship started. Me and Ago. We only dated for a month.

During that month, he was always so kind to me. There was a day when I didn’t reply to his texts because I ran out of credit (pulsa), and when we met at school he asked me about it. I explained the reason. Then, when I got home, there was a notification on my phone—a top-up from Ago. Thinking about it now, I still can’t believe it. A 7th grade boy with such a provider mindset. We never fought, but there was one moment when Ago misunderstood something and I was too lazy to explain. So, do you know what he did? He sent me a sweet letter and a box of chocolates to apologize. He didn’t give it to me directly—he thought I was really mad at him. So, he asked his friend to give it to me.

After a month, I felt like I was the villain here and that I didn’t deserve him. So, I decided to break up with Ago via chat—that was cruel, I know. I just wanted Ago to be happier.

Sadly, when we were in high school, Ago got into a terrible accident, and that made him take a year off from school. But guys, don’t worry—he’s fine now and has a nice job. I see that from his Instagram stories. We no longer contact each other, but seeing him doing well, that’s enough.

[ibuabuy]

Day 18 - Sosis Spiral

Ngga tau juga kalo seribu dulu bisa dapet apa. Soalnya pas SD jajanku udah 2000 (lagi-lagi karena inflasi), dan kalo cuman 1000 rasanya cuma dapet hikmah-nya aja, bukan kenyang. Jadi mending kita cerita yang 2000-an aja ya.

Aku bukan tipe penggemar jajanan blind box kayak orang sebelah yang ngejar Tazos dari bungkus jajannya. Biasanya dengan 2000, aku punya strategi sendiri. Seribu pertama aku pake buat beli bakso goreng atau bakso bakar di kantin, kadang juga ganti dengan Ale-ale yang harganya emang 1000 per gelas waktu itu. Nah, seribu sisanya sengaja aku simpan sampai jam pulang sekolah. Itu udah fix jatahnya buat beli sosis spiral di abang-abang yang mangkal deket gerbang sekolah.

Sampai sekarang aku masih suka mikir, kenapa ya jajanan di luar gerbang sekolah selalu terasa lebih enak dibandingin yang ada di kantin? Padahal sama-sama sosis, sama-sama digoreng, tapi vibe-nya beda. Mungkin karena ada sensasi “larangan kecil” atau mungkin emang abang-abangnya jago bener ngeracik bumbu.

Kalau misalnya aku lagi nggak pengen jajan, biasanya uang itu aku alihin buat beli mainan bongkar pasang. Satu lembarnya harganya 1000, jadi masih ada sisa buat yang lain. Nggak tau deh sekarang mainan itu masih ada atau udah punah, tapi dulu rasanya seru banget. Kita bisa bongkar kepala, badan, sama baju, terus pasangin seenaknya. Mungkin tanpa sadar itu jadi sarana aku belajar mix and match baju sejak kecil.

Kadang aku mikir, hal-hal kecil kayak gitu yang bikin masa SD jadi seru. Entah itu jajan sosis spiral, Ale-ale, atau mainan bongkar pasang, semua punya kesan masing-masing. Bukan soal mahal atau nggaknya, tapi soal rasa bahagia sederhana yang ternyata nempel terus sampai sekarang.

[ibuabuy]

Day 17 - Tim Hore

I'm in marching band for almost 7 years. This photo is when i joined my drum corps from high school.

Hari kemerdekaan di masa kecilku nggak pernah aku maknai apa-apa. Rasanya cuma kayak selebrasi doang kalau kita udah merdeka dari penjajahan Belanda. Nggak ada rasa heroik yang gimana gitu, nggak juga mikirin makna dalamnya. Pokoknya cuma ikut rame-rame, lihat orang kumpul, terus nikmatin suasana aja.

Aku juga nggak punya banyak pengalaman ikut lomba 17-an. Kalaupun ikut, ya hampir selalu kalah. Dari kecil emang bukan anak yang ambis. Jadi yaudah, akhirnya lebih sering jadi tim hore-hore, teriak-teriak semangatin temen yang lagi lomba.

Mulai agak beda pas aku kelas 6 SD. Waktu itu aku ikut marching band, dan semenjak itu 17 Agustus jadi punya cerita lain buatku. Menjelang hari kemerdekaan, latihan intensif udah jadi rutinitas. Siang sore capek banget, tapi ada rasa seru dan bangga pas tampil di lapangan, pakai seragam, main alat musik, dan dilihatin banyak orang.

Itu sih yang paling berkesan. Bukan soal menang lomba atau jadi juara, tapi soal kebersamaan dan rasa bangga kecil karena bisa ikut meramaikan perayaan kemerdekaan. Meski cuma lewat nada musik dan langkah kaki yang harus kompak, tetap ada perasaan “wah, aku juga bagian dari momen ini.”

[ibuabuy]

Day 16 - Tracing the Dead, Telling the Living

“Education never ends, Watson. It is a series of lessons, with the greatest for the last.” ― Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, His Last Bow

Thanks to my favorite series, Sherlock Holmes, I grew up surrounded by those lessons. I came to know John Watson, Irene Adler, Mycroft Holmes, Inspector Lestrade, and many more unforgettable figures. As a kid, I was a bit of a nerd, always glued to my sister’s laptop or my phone, binge-watching every Sherlock Holmes series I could find.

Whenever the atmosphere on screen turned dark, I would quietly leave my room and move to the living room. I was scared of the darkness, but my desire to keep watching always won. For me, Sherlock was brilliant, yet Watson stood out as even greater. He was the perfect combination of experience, intelligence, romance, and patience.

Those stories stirred something inside me. They created a sense of wonder, a desire to look deeper into mysteries. Watching Watson at crime scenes, observing his empathy alongside his sharp medical mind, inspired me to imagine a path for myself as a forensic doctor. To speak to the silence of death, to read the story left behind at a crime scene, and to uncover the truths hidden within mystery—those became the ambitions that Sherlock Holmes awakened in me.

Now, I also speak about death, but not the body. My journey has led me into the field of history education, where I work not with crime scenes but with the traces of the past. In many ways, history is its own kind of investigation. Every artifact, every document, and every testimony is a clue left behind by those who came before us.

Just as Watson stood patiently beside Holmes, examining the evidence and giving meaning to silence, I find myself doing something similar in the classroom. I uncover voices of the past that might otherwise be forgotten, and I guide my students in piecing together narratives that explain who we are today. The dead do not speak in words, yet through history, they continue to tell us stories about struggle, resilience, and identity.

What began with childhood nights spent watching mysteries unfold on the screen has grown into a lifelong calling. Sherlock taught me about logic, Watson taught me about humanity, and history taught me that even silence holds meaning if we are willing to listen.

[ibuabuy]

Day 15 - Dear Abuy

Hi, Abuy.

If you’re born, I want you to call me Ibu—not Mama, Mami, or Mom—just Ibu. It’s simple, yet it feels so heartwarming. Ibu isn’t a time traveler, but if you’re reading this someday, then yes—this is my heart speaking, excitedly waiting for you to come, hehe. I was so excited to welcome you that I even named this Tumblr “ibuabuy,” and several of my other accounts also “abuy.” Even some of my friends started calling me “Ibu Abuy,” “Bunda Abuy,” or “Mama Abuy.” I think that’s really cute.

Dear my baby, I’ve already prepared your name—long before I even knew who your father would be. But don’t worry, dear. Ibu always prays to Allah that you will have a father who fears Allah, so he will treat us well and we can build our home together on the long journey to Jannah.

Dear Abuy, you are from The Most Gracious (Ar-Rahman). So, my child, your name will carry something about compassion. I want you to be someone who fears Allah yet loves His creations, because whatever Allah gives us is only a trust (titipan). So if one day Allah asks us what we did with His trust, we can testify that we have done our best.

Dear Abuy, when you are born, I want to teach you everything I know. I want us to spend so much quality time together—memorizing the world map, playing games, having Ibu-and-kid playdates, and even doing sports together.

Dear Abuy, you can tell Ibu anything. Maybe I wasn’t born in the same era as you, but I am willing to learn so I can understand and relate to you. I’m sorry if one day in reality I try a little too hard to be your “cool mom.” Just teach me, dear.

Dear Abuy, if one day the world feels suffocating for you, come home and run to me. I will always be your forever home—at least in this world. May Allah reunite us in Jannah as a family.

While writing this, Ibu kept typing and deleting, typing and deleting. I just want to make sure you read the very best words from me.