The Blissfulness of Walking Away

Leaving for Departure

We often think that each day awake, is another day living. Through each and every footfall, the path to happiness will make itself clear. As if effortlessly, the stairway to constant joy will be provided, almost like magic. Through faith in the system, the natural curve of life will make you land where you wish, without effort.

They were the thoughts that raced through my mind each minute that morning, as I made a morning coffee. Stirring with the spoon, my mind this week was like sugar, diluting with water. Stirring and mixing together, thoughts and emotions came together, each taking turns rising to the top.

Once I heard the news of the flight, the stirring began. It started with slight concern, as the words left her mouth. "4 O'Clock on Friday is the flight, leaving Pearson- I think it's Gate 2." The time echoes in my ears, repeating 4 PM constantly.

Gate 2. 4 PM. Pearson Airport. Gate 2, Pearson. 4 PM, Friday.

Repeating over and over, bringing back memories after the first flight away from Canada, landing in Rome. The sights of the Coliseum, the restaurants filled with glowing, smiling faces- and our smiles joining the group. Walking over the pebble-like cobblestone seemed almost flawless, connecting hearts through our fingertips.

But when the words were said that she was leaving on Friday, no hand could make it seem real. The feeling of a loss was overwhelming, as the ears were hearing the sounds come together. The sadness contained within them seemed too imaginary, too unreal for just being one sentence. The happiness of the moment shifted quickly, to a place that doesn't include a backdrop of smiles.

With her hands holding mine, it only made the moment seem briefly better. By touching palms, skin against skin, the world could fade away momentarily. Flashbacks of the past drew breath again in my mind, the feelings of nostalgia bringing back the times of joy. Moments of hands running through hair, lips touching before sleep, then finally resting inches away on the pillow. Touch is the connection that makes everything seem real and true- without it the bond almost falls away.

Yet the memories of the past can carry a weight unseen, and the images long gone can come back easily. Even when holding hands, I can't help but smile as we walked into the restaurant, celebrating an anniversary. Or when we held hands jumping into the lake, on that first night together years ago. Through a simple touch of the shoulder, years of happiness can come flying back into a place that one would never expect.

With hands together our bodies squeeze each other tightly, my nose buried into her neck. The natural scent of her skin, the flowery scent that lives in her hair overrides my senses. Even hearing that it will only last one more week, it seems to liven and shine brighter and brighter through my nostrils. The scent of her body brings back the euphoria of the first time, when everything felt perfect.

That perfection was the only thing to hold onto, once unconfident lips sent the message of departure. The same lips, that used to kiss, brought the confirmation of feelings in wave. With just the kiss a message was sent, simply sated with the blunt passion behind it. The peace that once rested behind those lips had changed, departed with each word of news spoken.

Yet the happiness was still there, even if hard to find. By looking into her eyes, I caught sight of the joyful twinkle I was so familiar with- it still remained deep down. Hidden behind the sea of green was a spark, a glowing light flying in the clouds. Hope was present, and within arm's reach- all that was left is for the glow to reach her mind. By flying away, the affection in her heart rose to overtake her body, highlighting the choices made between body and mind.

By the end of the week, the sight of her leaving the house wasn't as bad as imagined. Even though her departure had been long coming, the revival of dead memories overtook the sadness, bringing only positivity. Those legs moving away, step by step, was no longer sad. My mind had initially revolted to the idea, and through each day it slowly shifted. Flying was no longer an act of leaving, but a movement towards the unknown happiness that can only come from one person.