Lost In Transit The Change And Its Dealings

It’s a busy day, with the wheels of jammed trolleys jarring around you.

Your tired eyes are prowling the conveyor for your favourite yellow trunk. Heavy suitcases are rapping the floor but your excited soul is now growing anxious. The déja vu from your childhood strikes at you. It is like that feeling when each students’ parents would come to drive them home for summer break, while you were left watching the dry empty road. The LED plays in consensus as it beeps the arrival of baggage from the next flight. Amidst a faded recall of what you have packed, you spot the canary yellow trunk smiling at you from the corner. Your elated self finds new meanings as you rush to hug the missing hoary baggage. How difficult would it have been to part ways, especially at the beginning of a new journey?

En route to the hotel, my mind begins to trundle about my marriage next month. So much would change. Maybe, with all the perfect ingredients: good, bad and thrilling. Of course, I love her. I always have, with all my heart. But there is this thingamajig feeling that’s slagging my decision of marriage. As if, my baggage full of memories is preparing to get lost in transit: the best of my belongings and a trunk tattered with life’s learnings.

As girls, women are often prepared for the fact that someday they will embrace a new life and a new home. That, they will begin on a new journey. What about men though? They are considered too macho for such conversations. Can you count the number of times, your mother or sister have asked you to settle your temper since you are meant to share your life with someone? I know the answers and that is precisely why my wandering mind is schmoozing with myself.