Sunlight on My Pages: Journaling by the Window of Retawu Deli

Before I begin, let me tell you about Retawu Deli — a deli and café in Malang, best known for its buttery croissants. Crisp on the outside, tender on the inside, they’re the kind you want to savor slowly with your very first cup of coffee.

For many, Retawu Deli is a place to gather or linger. For me, it’s where the day begins. By the window, with my journal open, sunlight warming the table, and the aroma of fresh pastry in the air — it feels like an invitation to start gently. Not rushing into lists or deadlines, but beginning with reflection, with words, with presence.

Retawu Deli has become more than a café to me. It is the window where I greet the day — one page, and one sip, at a time. I like sitting by the window when I journal. The café feels alive around me — the soft clink of cups, the hum of conversations — yet here at my little corner, there’s a kind of stillness. The sun stretches across my table, warm on my hand as I write. Outside, a squirrel hops across the branches, reminding me that life moves playfully even when I don’t.

If you’re ever in Malang, you’ll probably find me at Retawu Deli — by the window, where I love to begin my day.

Journaling has become my way of listening to myself. Not the neat, composed version I show the world, but the raw and unfiltered one. The self that doesn’t always know what’s next. The self that sometimes feels too heavy, or restless, or tender. On the page, I can meet all of her. And in that meeting, I heal.

I used to think healing had to be something big — a retreat, a change, a breakthrough. But more and more I find it happens in the smallest rituals: the sip of coffee, a pen moving slowly across a page, the warmth of sunlight slipping into a quiet moment.

If you’re wondering where to begin, start here: with whatever is in front of you. Write about the coffee cooling beside you. Write about how tired you feel, or how grateful you are, or how you don’t know what to write at all. One line is enough. One honest thought is enough.

Some days my journal holds pages of brainstorming — dreams I want to chase, ideas waiting to take shape. Other days, it’s just a list of things I need to let go. Both are part of healing. Both are ways of reminding myself that life can be messy and beautiful at the same time.

I don’t journal to be productive. I journal to be present. To breathe with myself for a little while. To make space for what feels heavy and let the light back in.

So maybe all you need is a notebook, a pen, and a corner by the window where the light comes in. Healing doesn’t always need grand gestures. Sometimes it begins with a single page — and the courage to sit with yourself long enough to fill it.

That’s how my mornings often begin — sunlight, coffee, and a few honest lines in my journal by the window of Retawu Deli. It’s my way of listening to myself before the day begins.

So, how do you journal? Do you write to release, to dream, or simply to sit with your thoughts for a while?