Going the distance

I flipped through the last page of my diary which marked the end of the year. I sat by the window watching snowflakes falling outside. Heaps of snow had deposited on the road. My hands shivered when I merely touched the window pane. The weather enthralled me. I had something to feel happy about. With my favourite pen (gifted by her) I started penning down those enigmatic thoughts that crossed my mind.

“Her call….. Yes, it all happened with her call. She never sounded so happy in the past one year I had been away. There was a child like excitement in it. It was one of those odd hours that she had chosen to call. There was nothing unusual about it though. Her moods swayed according to those hormonal surges that happen in every woman.”

I had to stop writing with another call from her.

“Are you going to be busy in the evening?” she asked in a sweet tone.

“No, today is a holiday dear. Why do you ask? “I enquired quizzically.

“Well… ummmm… err..rrr … I just thought we could Skype at like 6:00PM , London timing,” she said and paused in silence.

“It is our usual schedule, right? We Skype every Sunday,” I said trying to be causal.

Within, I wondered why she seemed so not- so – her today.

“Yes, I know honey. Just wanted to confirm,” she said in the most re- assuring tone.

“See you on Skype then,” she said and hung up.

I smiled thinking about her and got back to writing my diary.

“It was exactly six weeks since I had returned from India when it struck me hard how much I missed being with her. She was the only family I had after my parents. Each time we had a chat online her eyes got damp. They longed for me to come back. We were juggling between shaping our career as well as our relationship profile.”

I was about to proceed further when a small paper slipped out of my diary bringing back to me a train of thoughts.

It was an old bus ticket I had preserved. Date: 25/12/2010    Seat: One      Sex: F

 

I twisted and turned on my bed. It was 1:00 AM; there was no sign of a call or a message from her. It was my birthday and for once she wasn’t the first one to call me. I woke up suddenly by her call in the morning.

“Happy birthday honey,” she cried out in her shrilling enthusiastic voice.

It seemed still like I was imagining hearing her voice. Before I could even acknowledge her wishes she spoke again. “I have sent you a parcel. It will reach you today morning. Can you please check with your guard if he has received it? It should be the first gift that you open today.”

I had no other option but wake up, wear my jacket and check. With half open eyes I walked down my apartment towards the main entrance.

A strange sight popped open my eyes.

There stood my girl in white wearing that vibrant smile, walking towards me.

I felt as if I were still dreaming about her. One warm hug from her in that chilling morning brought me back to my senses.

She had travelled more than 800 kilometers just to meet me even when I didn’t want her to come.

 

These thoughts overwhelmed me now.

I felt a twitching pain. I was missing her more. I struggled to hold my tears not having the courage to remember any of those wonderful memories. I wanted to get back to India, to be with her. She had taught me the meaning of being with a family.

It was 5:45PM already. I was more eager than ever to see her and speak to her. I needed to express my emotions to her.

I left my pen and dairy by the window and got my laptop ready.

My phone rang again.

“Hi…………,” she cried out.

“You got a parcel at your doorstep,” saying this she hung up.

I felt it was a dream within a dream. Either I was hallucinated by her thoughts or it was just those emotions playing tantrums with my mind.

I opened the door only to see my lady standing in front of me. She looked like the same old girl I had just thought about.

“I need to be with you, not away from you especially when we are going to add one into our family,” she said with joy and hugged me tight.

She had crossed miles this time only to meet me.

“You never cease to surprise me,” I said ruffling her hair.

With moist eyes I looked at the incomplete page of my diary. This year was certainly going to have a wonderful ending.

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