Sometime ago I saw some gorgeous purple tulips made out of beautiful Bohemian crystals. They were really cheap, a rare find, and I bought a few of them to decorate my own room. They are so delicately hand-crafted, and so life-like that if you stand from far away you can't tell them apart from real ones. Only when you look close do you realise that they are out of cold glass, yet, no less beautiful.
When my mum came to visit almost three weeks back, I put them in a vase and placed them in her room. To welcome her home, to welcome her back to the Netherlands... back to the land of tulips.
The tulips smashed and shattered into bits and pieces. Ironically on the eve of her departure. I heard a loud bang next door, and ran over. On the ground was the vase, and out of it, spread in all directions, were shards of sharp glass.
"How terrible..." she said, her face obviously in shock. "What a terrible thing to happen to add to an already broken heart".
Deep, and even more so because it's so true.
"It's alright," I said lowly, "It's just glass, nothing precious. As long as no one was hurt". And it wasn't the shattered tulips and broken glass that made me sad, or that hurt as I picked them up.
I don't like goodbyes, and I don't think they like me, but they do seem to keep on meeting me. The worst is the few days, few hours, few minutes before the inevitable happens. Yes, goodbyes are inevitable... because it's the one thing that's sure when you meet.
In a few hours, I'll be standing at the airport and hugging my mum goodbye... makes me sad to just think about it.
Worse because I'm not sure when I'll see her again... if ever...
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