The Little Women

The name is sashimi. It’s a bit sus,  but it’s got lots of guts. It wears itself proudly and tastes as delicious as you can imagine, really. Do you know what we can learn from a sashimi? That you can be soft and firm at the same time, like tuna sashimi. The softness doesn’t mean you’re meek—it’s strong yet compassionate. You can be soft and sweet, like nama hotate. But your softness isn’t a weakness—it’s a sweet complement to your personality, instead. Or you can be like salmon belly—the very presence of you brings a profound taste to anyone’s tastebuds. Deliciously melty & wonderful, truly the light of the room. And all three are raw, a strength of their own—authentic. So, according to the story, which sashimi will you choose? 😉 Ananda Khaira Azizah,  Pekanbaru, December 5th 2025. Written at 6am on a Friday.

What makes home a home—is it a feeling, a memory or a person? Are they separable or are they not? A feeling is something that’s attached tightly to memories, and memories involve people, so at the very end, a home is all three. But for me? For me, a home is a feeling. It’s when my child muttered our name in his sleep; when he jumps with delight at the very sight of us and the way he looks at us before drifting away to his sleep. A feeling so great that makes me whole and grounded, so good it invokes gratefulness in me, and so beautiful it sometimes brings tears to my eyes. Yes, the feeling is love—but it’s not just any love. It’s the kind of love that makes your chest swell with happiness; barely containable but desperately need-able. And about separability… No. I don’t think feelings, memories, and people are separable. Those three—they are the very essence of love.  Because without people, you’ll have no feelings, thus no memories, right? The feelings are, of course, gained from ...

“Chickenary = where chicken equals self-resiliency.” Chicken = Resilient. Why? How? In this piece, the chicken sees itself in two different ways. One as a question mark and second as a statement. I am a bird but I can’t fly, why? why? why? I endured every food-processing process, yet I still emerge as a chicken—resiliently, deliciously & wonderfully. The first one leans heavily unto self doubt because of the so many whys (and the answer is really, up to our God’s above) and the second one is one strong statement filled with self pride. As mundane as you think a chicken is, it has been an irreplaceable food of choice on our table, right? The chicken might undergo a temperature so low it becomes frozen chicken and so high it becomes grilled chicken. Some chicken even has rendang paste mixed; then stirred for hours until it becomes rendang chicken.  But my point being that they are still chicken, through and through from beginning till the end. Its resiliency persists toward anyth...

Oh isn’t he sweet Falling back asleep as soon as mama’s hand touches his, And sleeping soundly on mama’s shoulder for 10 hours straight with little to no break (😂) Then husband said “That’s not healthy, you should be able to move when you want to move.” As if he doesn’t see him scoots when I scoots. So the bladder’s full on most nights and when I’m finally able to release they usually accompanied by strings of heartfelt cries  But he is sweet, really. My wonderful boy who laughs with the biggest laugh and giggles with the biggest smile. Whose heart as big as the ocean and love just as deep; whose eyes flicker with excitement & curiosity & wonder. You’ve taught me more than I taught you, truly. I’m forever grateful, baby. Forever in love with you and also, I’m forever yours. And this piece’s written by yours truly, mama. Ananda Khaira Azizah, Pekanbaru, October 25th. Written on 6pm on a Saturday.

Did you notice that lots of your friends are moving to a different space, all on a different pace? It’s becoming more and more apparent now. Some of my friends go to residency, some steps into a serious spousal relationship and the other march into parenthood. They’re on a different pace so why do we compare ourselves to them? You’re clearly not on the same starting line. You see, comparison is one toxic trait that I hate so much because I grew up bearing it. It first came from other people until I am eventually old enough to do it myself. It crushed me and my self esteem. I can’t seem to comprehend that there’s no one size fits all.  All of the whys and the believe that my choice is wrong and they are right; that my ticket to happiness has to be the same as everyone else’s. But no, my ticket to happiness is very different from them. Me with my thoughts & my feelings along with my experiences want something more.  Something deep rooted into your soul that brings you immens...

So I listened Sara Bareilles “She Used To Be Mine” repeatedly this morning (she’s such a great singer!) but here’s the interesting part: I’m drawn to her chorus, yet the rest of the song doesn’t resonate with me as much. I can relate very much with “She’s imperfect but she tries etc.” but the part where she talked about the unplanned pregnancy is hard to relate to because my pregnancy is very much different, you know? Mine is a very expecting & joyful one. Then it dawned on me how our experiences can really altered how we see the world. Like my husband will never understand the hard story of my family dynamics because he never went through the same experiences as I do. No matter how hard I try to explain it to him. Our story only resonates to those with similar experiences as we do. That’s why one whole song listened by millions of people in the world translates into different meanings to each and every one of them. I think what I want to tell you here is that we shall not be too q...