Once you decide to leave a city
You imagine all the final goodbyes
And what they’ll feel like
Much much before your last day arrives.
You make a mental list or a tangible one
Of all the places to revisit
And the people to meet
So many memories to celebrate
And moments to regreet.
You smile in the distance imagining
What those people may say
And what you may say in return
Almost looking forward to
The teary smiles and warm hugs
And you wonder whether
Those who have wronged you
Will come clean and apologise
You wipe away a tear when you realise
How everyone will wish
There was still some more time.
But there isn’t.
And you struggle to find space
For every promised catchup
And the new ones who casually said
“We must meet before you leave”
Some evenings you want to pause
Skip dinner and get early to bed
But the days are already too brief
And you can’t afford any regrets.
As the final week draws close
You notice the other lasts
The last time you cross
The city’s bustling market
Or find a spot next to the sea
Your last bill at this cafe
Or for the weekly grocery.
The last Monday morning, Tuesday meeting,
Wednesday hairwash and the Thursday before
The final day to work.
The last rickshaw ride to office
And now you pause to savour it all
Seeking things you once loved
LIke the tiny bell on the juice stall.
But there’s so much more to see
That you rushed by ever since
Yet nothing stops, nobody pauses
Chasing their next deadline
Or planning a party after a dull week.
When the final day arrives
You still have bags to pack
And belongings to return
Luggage to weigh again
A final final time
Sleeping without a bedsheet
On your closing night
You wake up in the middle
To add that small something
Impossible to leave behind.
As you wait for the cab
You turn around a final time
To look for your favourite guard
But he is off duty today
The dog you often feed
Is sleeping in the shade.
So you head to the airport
With a fresh set of eyes
As people rush by
To catch another flight
You greet the crew member
She greets the one behind
You look at the city
One final time
Before the passenger in front
Blocks the Sun shining bright
And that’s what, leaving is really like.
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