2013 went, leaving me a lonely souvenir as it did.
I ate in silence on New Year's Eve. I wanted to watch the fireworks outside, but couldn't. I had a terrible cough and knew it best for me to stay away from the thick clouds of smoke in the street. I resorted to opening the bottle of Italian Lambrusco I bought earlier that night. Took a gulp. It was good, but not as good as I hoped. Lambrusco, high carbonation. I have to take that in note. I poured glass after glass, but still wasn't able to finish the whole bottle though that was the intention. Somehow I couldn't even get myself to drink.
And then the phone rings. My sister was just checking in and sent her greetings. I got to talk to my niece for a while, which instantly made me feel so much better.
I thought about all my travel plans this year. I was leaving for a big trip in a few weeks. I was a bit anxious, but it was nothing compared to the excitement stirring up inside me. And then I thought about my mom. I often think of her. And I think about all the times I have left her and will leave her. The thought makes me sad, but I simply cannot not go.
Sometimes I think this is why I like to leave. More than the bliss of reaching places, I think it is the feeling of leaving I like most. Those fleeting moments in airports when you are in between what is and what could be. While traveling, everything is passing. You are passing. You move with the seasons, roll with the changes, and nothing is ever permanent. Everything is always fresh, budding, exciting. On the road, you are never left behind. And I live for that feeling.
Perhaps that's why this has been difficult for me.
For the first time, I wasn't the one who left, while I sit here with a constant reminder of what did.
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