After all the Eid activities were done, we finally stayed home to recharge our energy. It was not just a regular kind of tired, it was the type of exhaustion that made you feel like you had not slept in days. Just imagine it, traveling from one city to another in such a short amount of time. Especially my dad, who had taken on the heroic role of driving us everywhere. He was practically our personal chauffeur throughout the whole Eid al-Fitri season. He drove from Bali to Malang, then from Malang to Tuban, from Tuban to Pekalongan, and finally back to Malang again. Each trip was long, crowded, and filled with traffic, especially with so many other families doing the same Lebaran routine, visiting relatives and traveling back to hometowns. What amazed me the most was that my dad barely complained. Sure, he looked exhausted and had visible eye bags the size of small bags of rice, but he kept going. He would just down a cup of coffee, stretch a little, and then get right back behind the wheel. I could see the fatigue catching up to him, especially on the last leg of the trip back to Malang. We were all dozing off in the car while he stayed focused on the road, playing a mix of old dangdut and 80s rock music just to keep himself awake.
When it was finally time for him to return to Bali, we all knew he couldn’t do it alone. He was clearly worried he might fall asleep on the road, and honestly, we were worried too. At first, my dad expected my brother to accompany him back to Bali, but life threw a curveball, my brother had a surprise exam at school. That threw off the plan completely. My dad then turned to me and asked if I could go with him. But at that moment, I was knee-deep in college assignments. I had a pile of tasks waiting for me, papers, reports, group projects, the usual post-holiday academic storm. So I politely declined, thinking that would be the end of it. But of course, my dad did not give up easily. He next asked my mom to go with him, but she was not too keen on going alone either. She was worried about the long journey and did not feel like spending two days away from home by herself. In the end, after much back-and-forth, she decided to go, on one condition, I had to come along too. And that is how I found myself packing for Bali, again, though just for two days, with the sole purpose of keeping my dad company while he made his way back there.
At first, I was not exactly thrilled. The idea of spending more hours on the road, when my body still felt sore from all the previous trips and did not sound appealing at all. But as we drove and I saw the trees whizzing past, the sun breaking through the clouds and felt the cool breeze through the half-open window, something shifted. It reminded me of all the road trips we would taken when I was little. It used to be such a big adventure, singing along to whatever was playing on the mp3, snacking on chips and fruit, making random stops at little warungs for a meal or just to stretch our legs. And honestly, that is what this trip became. Just the three of us—my dad, mom, and I—back on the road like old times. We talked a lot, mostly about random things like how the trip had been, how tired we were, memories from past Eids, and even funny stories from when I was a kid. At one point, my mom pulled out a playlist she had made on her phone, and we started playing songs we all knew. It turned into a spontaneous karaoke session in the car. I sang out-of tune versions of 2000s pop hits, my mom joined in with her nostalgic love songs, and my dad chimed in with his offbeat harmonies. We laughed so much that we had to pause the music just to catch our breath. There was something incredibly comforting about singing together like that. We were not perfect vocalists—far from it—but in that moment, we didn’t care. It felt like we were reclaiming a little bit of joy amidst all the fatigue. The road, once long and tiring, felt a bit more alive. Music has that strange power, doesn’t it? It connects people without needing deep conversation. Just humming the same tune, laughing at wrong lyrics, or belting out the chorus together created an atmosphere that was cozy and healing.
When we arrived in Bali, the familiar smell of the ocean mixed with the island air greeted us. Even though we weren’t there for vacation, just being in Bali made everything feel lighter. My dad immediately got into his routine again—checking on the house, handling work, and prepping things that had been left during the Eid trip. My mom and I, meanwhile, spent the day resting and enjoying the quiet. Bali was much calmer compared to the packed and fast-paced days we had just experienced. That evening, as the sky turned orange and the soft sound of waves echoed in the background, we decided to have a little karaoke session again—this time properly. My dad brought out the karaoke mic and speakers, and we set them up in the living room. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a small get-together for the three of us. But once again, it was perfect. We took turns choosing songs. I picked a few from Taylor Swift and Coldplay. My mom chose some old Indonesian classics—Krisdayanti and Rossa. My dad, of course, stuck to his favorite rock ballads. Even though none of us had great singing voices, we all sang like we were performing for an audience of thousands. The more we sang, the more we laughed. We even recorded some of the performances, cringing and giggling at our own voices when we played them back. It made me realize how these simple moments, the ones that don’t cost a thing, often become the most meaningful. No one was checking their phones, no one was thinking about work or assignments, and no one was in a rush. It was just us, a family, sharing a space, sharing voices, and sharing laughter. After a few songs, we ended the night with some hot tea and snacks. We sat around, still chatting and chuckling at the highlights of our karaoke night.
The next morning, we headed back to Malang. This time, I was wide awake throughout the drive, keeping my dad company, playing DJ, and occasionally singing along when a favorite song came on. I knew I had deadlines waiting for me, but for the first time in a while, I didn’t feel overwhelmed by them. Instead, I felt grounded—like I had just received this emotional reset that I didn’t even know I needed. Looking back, this trip to Bali wasn’t about the destination. It wasn’t even about the purpose of going back for logistical reasons. It was about time—real time—spent with people I love. It was about understanding that even though our schedules are always full and our energy always feels spent, we still need to pause and enjoy each other. Because one day, these are the memories I’ll treasure most. Not the grades I got, or how many assignments I submitted on time, or how productive I was over the break. But the time I sang loudly in the car with my parents, the road stretching endlessly ahead, and the sound of laughter filling up the air.
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