Brother called as I was busy packing the last few items into my suitcase. At first I could not hear him properly, then I could hear his muffled voice, mixed with tears and emotions. The last time I heard him cry was just after dad passed away.
“I just saw Carmen,” he began, “And it’s not good.” He was clearly distraught, and I was lost looking for words of comfort to offer, but could not find any. He said what he was feeling must be like when I experienced my friend become weaker and weaker until life slipped away. I was silent as he continued. This really could be it, and he asked if it were possible to extend my stay in the
I closed the door, and saw my cat watching me through the glass window. Moments earlier she sat in my suitcase, as if she knew that I was again about to leave her. I stroked her again and again, unwilling to abandon her for so many days again so soon after I had returned.
With a heavy heart I made my way to the airport, the whole journey like a blur to me now that I think back. I tried to capture my mind, hold it down, but again it was racing rapidly through random thoughts and images. Now and then, I could see her face, her eyes, her body. I could hear her laughter, hear her voice, hear the echoes of the long talks she and I shared at cafes, in the park, by the beach… As I journeyed closer and closer to home, it seemed like the memories came back and pieces of the puzzle of the past joined together.
The sun was setting, and through the massive windows at the end of the terminal building I could see a red-orange sun slowly become swallowed by low-lying clouds. Cast on the bodies of planes and faces of passengers apart to depart was a bright, almost sacred reddish glow.
The day was dying, and each moment as precious as the previous.
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