(In between deadlines. In between flights. In between time and space. In between dreams and nightmares)
Saturday, December 31, 2011
I'm in the middle of a manicured forest to greet the new year. I asked Hitler to pack my stuff for me -- two shirts, some underwear, jeans, shorts, etc. But of course, here, I realized that I had forgotten (I always do) something. Slippers! How can I forget? And my grey cardigan. How can I miss that?
But then after all the packing and unpacking, all the road trips and the travels, the roller-coaster ride and adventures, I learned in 2011 that no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I fuss and stress about it and that no matter how many hours it takes for me to pack, I will never be able to bring with me all that I need.
More importantly, I learned that the really essential things in this journey called life can't really fit in my bag. You can't pack love, as Roxanne Krystalli had said. And hugs and kisses. And the warmth of an embrace. The smile of a child. Her laughter. That doe-eyed look when she wants ice cream or junk food or just some more minutes to play with me.
You can't pack a cappuccino maker.
And pain and misery. And anger. They shouldn't fit in the bag.
And so, I will carry on. I will travel lighter. Will (try to) let go of what's not needed. Will bring only what I need -- the indescribable, enormous love that can't fit in any bag or backpack.
And to the love of my life, here's looking forward to more travels, from muddy paths and devastated patches of earth, to paradise, to hell and back.