When we decided to brave the highest peak with a elevation of 5,255 of mount muria in Central Java it was pouring down rain. The trail was muddy and overgrown and the final descent was scrambling a steep 850 gain incline of rocks and stones only about three feet wide as I was thankful for the fog of clouds we climbed above. I clung onto my family as we sheltered by a small Hindu shrine as thunder roared all around us at the very top. During that moment as I hugged my fragile family I understood that even when we reached our waiting driver in the mountain side village below; even when we dry off in our hotel room and fill our bellies with warm rice and even warmer laughter of the adventure we had accomplished - that we still were not safe firmly planted as this family of four. This May Monday is the first of many court dates to come. I have no certainty in anything at this point. None. All the questions I can not answer. Percentage of success I dwell in minimal hope. And I hate it. I loathe it. I attempt to keep normalcy and security for my youngest and most influenced spirits as I suffocate under the fears of all the 'what ifs' we stand against. I look back at this wet yet wonderful family selfie at our peak 29 on that volcano mount muria and I believe all the love given these past three some years to mr jj is enough. This love must be enough. This love has to be enough.
Kalau Tuhan menampakkan dirinya, maka Dia tidak adil, karena orang buta tak bisa melihatNya.~PB .
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