She was going away again. And as she walked with her boarding pass in hand towards security check and the boarding gates, she wondered why most of her time this year was spent at airports and in flights. She didn't travel for work all that much. Most of her travel was for herself and now looking back, she was travelling to some place or the other every second weekend this year. Was it a conscious decision, or was it coincidence? It was November, she couldn't believe the year was nearing the end, here she was, another year gone by, another Christmas approaching, another flight. Like most of her travel plans, this one had been booked on a whim as well. Something in her said she had to go and she took a day to book flights and hotels and plan an itinerary and she was ready, in May, for a trip in November. As she boarded the flight, she smiled, pulled her yoga mat closer and closed her eyes for a second, and took a long deep breath and opened her eyes. As she stowed her mat away in the overhead lockers and sat down in her seat, she took our her tiny black notebook and a pen from her handbag and started to write. This tiny moleskine notebook was where she documented her every plane ride, with a small story about where she was going, who she was going with and how she was feeling at that time in her life. It was an interesting read. Even though, she would never open it except for when she sat down in her allotted seat for flights. And when she turned the pages back to read stuff she had written about previous trips, she was immediately transported to where she was in life when she'd written those pages, it was almost as if she were travelling to that place she'd written about all over again.
This time, she deliberately turned to November last year, when she had boarded this very flight, but under extremely different circumstances. She was taking a chance to travel with a special someone and as she read what she'd written, she smiled at her own naivety and how excited and in love she had sounded. She even let out a soft laugh and tapped her forehead with her right hand and said to herself "mad girl". It had been a year, and how much she had changed, how much things had changed, how much he had changed. Or had he? They weren't together anymore and often when she sat down to think about what went wrong, she would settle on "right person, wrong time" philosophy behind why the relationship didn't work out.
And suddenly, just like that, she imagined him to be sitting right there next to her. When she looked up, she saw his eyes, that crinkled up when he smiled, almost as if his eyes were also smiling. And as she looked into his eyes, she saw her destiny there and saw that it was meant to join his in this journey of life. She smiled back at this imaginary person as he told her not to disturb him on the the flight, that he doesn't like talking and would much rather concentrate on finishing the last few episodes of this series he was watching on his tablet. And as he put on his headphones, she smiled more and shook her head and looked to the window. And then turned back to say something to him, but he was gone, the seat was empty again. She sighed.
It was an empty-ish flight, it was a weekday and so made sense why folks weren't travelling. Thailand was one of her favourite countries to travel to. The food, the people, the culture, absolutely everything was so lovely. And even though she had been to this particular part of Thailand before, when her heart told her she had to go back, she didn't think twice before making her decision. She looked to her notebook and started to write. She looked up, and saw him watching her write, he reached across and closed her notebook, took her hands in his and said "I have great hopes for us, i can see us going far" and she blushed. "Ma'am, a hot towel for you?" broke her reverie. The stewardess was looking at her suspiciously now.
How do two people who are perfect for each other, not end up together? What is 'right person, wrong time' anyway? When you meet the right person, shouldn't everything just feel and be right? The romantic in her asked these questions even after all these months, and the realist in her answered, he wasn't the right fit for you, you fell too hard, too fast, and irrespective of when you'd met him in life, it wouldn't have worked out. The romantic in her often ignores that and thinks to herself : does he sit down on Sunday evenings when the weekend has almost gone by, but the promise of a leisurely evening still holds true, does he then think of her, ever? Does he think of what they could've been had he given them a chance? If he had opened the doors of his heart and for a change let someone in? Does he regret his decision? And does his proud ego stop him from coming back to her ? All he had to do was to let her in. A tear escaped her and flowed down her cheeks, pulling along with it all the words he had said, but mostly, all the words he didn't say. She looked out of the window into the darkness that had descended all around the aircaft and closed her eyes and slept.
As she stepped out at the airport in Thailand and walked towards the "On-Arrival Visa" counter, she felt him walking by her side, "I'm glad we are here together, it'll be nice to get to know each other outside of the city, and spend time with each other, I am glad i could whisk you away". What did you learn of me from that trip, she wanted to ask. Did you realise i was a woman of few words, that i shared my deepest self with very few, and that I had chosen to let you in, but knew that you hadn't let me in, did you even try? And as she asked herself (or him) those questions, she saw him vanish into thin air. He didn't bother her all the time like this, but she wasn't shocked that he was here with her on this trip. It was natural for her to feel his presence here.
She stood in front of a bed and breakfast place they had discovered together during their walks one day, and she had told him, that when she comes back to this city, she'd come and stay here alone. It was such a quaint little place, and she could totally imagine being here by herself. He'd mocked her and said, he'd beat her to it. She'd said "we'll see". And here she was, standing in front of that bungalow, a year later, with her bags in hand, she had beat him to it.
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