On the flight back from down under, I wondered what I would feel as I would enter our huge house (which thankfully isn’t what we have built for that would be really silly of us to have a gigantic property for two soon to be oldies!!) with a large part of us missing and left behind in the most isolated city of the world. Somehow it seemed logical and okay after an hour into the early morning.
Life does go on.
A few years back it seemed the only thing which was constant. The fact that our son was pursuing another career, life, and way of being than what we had seen all our alive years, seemed absolutely logical and an understandable choice. Then the pandemic happened. The whole gamut of scenarios changed. The feelings changed. The perceptions changed. The outlooks changed. The understandings did too.
Years of plans got broken down into plans for today and tomorrow. Maximum.
I stopped living in the long term completely. The now made more sense.
Uncertainty took on a whole new meaning. And consistency the most obvious choice.
Amid all of this when my son flew down on a Vande Bharat flight, the naïve in us thought it was for a few months.
But two and a half years flew past us. Years which made so much more sense now than they ever could. It also helped all of us to view each day as if from afar. From another perspective as if we were viewing our own lives by jumping out of it. Every moment became so much more precious. Every instant that much more treasurable. As friends walked into our time, those times became irreplaceable. Those days and evenings outstanding in content of feelings and camaraderie.
Then all of world started to open up from behind the dreadful years of the pandemic. Shaky at first. More confident as those steps turned to runs. The inevitable happened.
The time to get back to the pre-pandemic life of new hope, one in which he would have to fly from our nest, yet again, became unavoidable. The dread changed to expectations. The fear wasn’t from the fact of a going-away but from the fear of the virus and its ruin. And the fact that there were miles of water and land and time between us made the anxiety real.
But hope is eternal. Again, Passé? Clichéd?
Maybe. But a truism indeed.
As we stepped out and flew across waters, the familiar environments of a welcoming academic hub had us reassured.
It was like good ol’ days.
Hopefully. A silent prayer rose from my heart as I saw my son settle in yet again in contrasting times at the same university.
Back home it was routine as usual. Busy mornings. Busier days. Busiest me.
And thankfully so. The thumping of my munchkins made it abundantly clear that at least these nine furry balls had not approved of an empty home. One person away was bearable. All three missing? Unpardonable!
Floating through a normal day makes me look at our home wistfully. It becomes a ‘home’ due to innumerable reasons and people. It converts into your nerve center and your soul due to the incredibleness of its residents.
I looked around and realized that a little of that soul, was missing because one of its prized residents was far away in another land. I decided to send him some love and warm wishes through those smalls nooks and corners which miss him and await his return.