Seven Minutes After I Die

Home to Horizon

Only a few more hours are left before my flight to Dubai, and then from there to Oxford. The room, once filled with my messy clothes and books, now looks clean, very clean. It evokes a lot of emotions in me. The place where I spent 18 years of my life danced with happiness and shivered with sadness. It reminds me of many sweet and bitter memories. I decided to take a look at my whole house. My first favorite spot is the cozy nook of my room, where I explored the whole world with word. This poem describes my experience well,

In a cozy nook,
I engage in a silent dance between pages,
The rhythm of words sing to my soul,
"Pages turns like pathways
Each line a key to success"
Unlocking adventure mystery and so on.

In Fantasy lands,
I ride the waves on a mermaid's wing,
In History's tome,
Echos of the past in narrative bold,
In realms of Science fiction's gaze,
Galaxies unfold in an Interstellar maze,
In Romance novels embrace,
A balm for the scars,
Where my heart finds a grace,
Travel Books,
Get me to distant lands,
With each turn of page,
A new world in my hand,
Discovering the World,
With just few Word,

A passport to knowledge,
Definetly through books I acknowledge,
A ticket to roam,
All from the comfort of my own cozy home.
                                 _Susila Lakshmanan

The second favorite spot is the swing where I used to drink my coffee. It was the source of many fights between me and my brother. I'm going to miss it. Another favorite is the balcony from where I admire the beaches and greenery of my native land. A place I go when I have nightmares yeah that is my mom's room. A place I go when I'm bored or want to start a fight is absolutely my brother's room. The four chairs that unite us every day are around the dining table.

I lifted my trolley and reached the living room of my home. My family members smiled at me, and I smiled back.

My mom asked, "Anna! Have you packed everything?"

"Yes, I have," I replied.

"Shall we go now?" my dad asked.

There was a pin-drop silence.

Then my mom said, "We will, guys. Go, go, go. Let me close the door."

My brother put the trolley in the trunk and sat with me in the car. We are on the way to Ngurah Rai International Airport in Bali. We crossed Nusa Dua Beach, which is a familiar spot for us.
But today, it seems different, My brother said. "See, Anna, the beach where we built sandcastles when we were kids. I wish we could be kids again."
I smiled but I haven't seen his face.

The last minute at the airport is a recollection of whole memories. The happiest thing is that I'm going to Oxford to explore new things which I've read about in books. The saddest part is leaving my family and my native land. We've seen many people who come to the airport to say goodbye.

There was a young married couple holding a child in their hands; he is departing to Dubai for work. The baby was crying a lot. The mother was concealing all her feelings inside and putting on a smiling face. Hiding is more painful than Expressing.

As I approached the security checkpoint, a wave of emotion washed over me. I turned to hug my family. My parents gave encouraging smiles, while my brother made a joke. My brother handed me an envelope.

Walking towards the security line, I turned back to memorize their faces again—my mother's eyes glittered, and my father gave a reassuring smile. Tears filled my eyes. I was grateful for the memories we shared and determined for the adventures ahead.