Once, 6 years ago.

Last night, there was a reunion held by a handful of alumni from the highschool I used to attend in Jakarta. It wasn't much from an event's critic point of view, but for me, it was a generous wake-up call. A wake-up call because most of my highschool mates have graduated, working, and starting to plan weddings. A wake-up call because there were faces I recognized but never took the chance to know. A wake-up call because those were the only people I would ever call highschool mates in Jakarta.

Life joked on me last night, I re-found my "highschool crush" and took the nerve to call out his name among all heads. Turned out that the day I left for Paris back in 2002, ever since, he was subjected to pressures of "calling" and/or "emailing" me because our mutual friends apparently think there could be something more going on. But nothing ever did. I packed my luggage and fleed, ending something that never had the chance to begin. Six years later, there we were, near the parking of our shared highschool, silenced, but thankful. Grateful for being able to admire each other so long that it would be senseless to think anything else were meant to be.

For a change, being around people that shared the same history felt warm and welcoming. I enjoyed last night, and how it ended with a self-promise to live my life the best that I could as I sat under the open sky night- watching the vibrant color of fireworks above.