she has 3 days to go, while i have 9 and now it's more about the last minute packing, scrolling down the details and ticking off checklists. this is the time when friends advance in priority -subconsciously or otherwise - and the family picture sidles away to a distant corner. but i guess that's how life moves on, shedding past the shadows of your parents' dreams and aspirations, realizing the value of independent decision-making.
from spices to emotions, items are pocketed and earmarked in the case. labels and tags screeched onto the semi-hard fabric. you wonder whether immigration officials will question you for your belongings. will harass you if you're in black. will root out a mock defence to every emotion you portray. they ask you to spare the rolling tears, and all the little hugs and embraces with which you grew up. and for once your heart skips a beat at your freedom. nostalgia and homesickness chirp into your throbbing veins. your eyes pounding with the pain of empty expectations. you want to lung out your crying voice. but you chose to depart. you look back and see your father faking a smile. your mother's hand frozen at the tilt in which she stroked your hair. you want to reach out to them and tell them you love them, but you don't. and then you stroll ahead into the row of endless counters. steamy sweat beading on your forehead. your eyes are dilated with confusion. and then you flip through those dreary images of departure curling up in your mind, and ask yourself -am i escaping?
