I
still remember,
It
was a random thought that filled my mind a couple of minutes and then I got
over it. Some time after resettling here in Bangalore, my best friend sent me a
reel. The reel was about 2 close friends who used to lived minutes away from
each other, but now live thousands of miles away, how they could they could
have visited the other whenever they wanted, how the same old places just do
not feel the same anymore. It had me in tears. And just like that, I was
standing again near the entrance of her home, looking out at the garden, the
same thought engulfing me. But this time, this time I knew the answer.
Yes,
it is hard for the person who is leaving, to leave everything behind, to start
afresh, to find a new place to live, to pay bills, to somehow make it by, to
miss home every holiday, to save money, to feel lonely; but you have the endless
exploring to do of new places, of new foods, of new people, of new feelings.
You have a goal, you have motive; you have a purpose. It is harder for people
left behind: for parents who wait for your phone every day, for grandparents
who wait till they can see you again, for siblings who cannot wait to tease you
you and fight with you, for friends who go to the same coffee shop just to
realize how long it has been since you both met, for colleagues who pass the
same alley where you laughed randomly. It is undoubtedly hard for the person
who leaves, but it is harder for the person who is left behind.
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