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I’m thinking of adding a new entry into my piece, aiming to include more of my Indonesian heritage within my piece to touch on the theme of translanguaging. 

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Makanya: (adverb) Indonesian for “consequently, therefore, no wonder!”

Entry #614 

Last night, I learned what it felt like to be known entirely and loved nonetheless. It splashed over me, wet, salty, like the waves we watched from those worn couches on our painfully temporary Balinese bungalow. 

It was strange that you had now been in every home I’ve ever known. 

California: A red brick cottage, covered in crawling ivy. Two cats wrestling in the front yard. A two-story home, deep in the suburbs–the mirror image of all other homes in the neighborhood. My bedroom walls painted aqua; we were fish behind glass, oblivious to any tapping. 

Java: We barely knew each other, but still, it was enough to bring you halfway across the world, to meet my family, my roots, and to show you my skin in the game. I remember being afraid of showing you this reality–lizards on the walls, bucket showers with unreliable heating, and perhaps most frightening:  the protective spirits of my deceased grandparents. My fears dissipated as you moved with ease between the home’s narrow doorframes and finished your showers without a word of judgment. My heart, so skittish, warmed and ripened as I watched you sleep in equatorial sunlight. You share the same birthday as my two departed grandmothers. It’s the password to all my locks. No wonder. 

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