Why is it so hard to leave? š„¹
Still figuring this one out.
Note to reader: I was meant to publish this on my flight yesterday but was too tired and watched āIt Ends with Usā instead.
Last night, the night before the flight that Iām currently on back to JFK, I was laying in bed restless wearing the vitamin c sheet mask (brand unknown but I do recc) I was supposed to put on when I first got to England 3 and a half weeks ago.
I had about 6 mins left on the mask timer so I put my kindle down and walked over to my parents room and got into their bed like I did when I was a kid. Nestling into my dadās nook, breathing in his Lynx scent, I didnāt feel 34 anymore. It was nice. I took a moment to appreciate this almost-month home. Some family things got taken care of. Others didnāt. Even though itās painful, itās okay. You canāt do it all.
Every time Iām back home, I can never sleep the night before my flight to NYC. It forever reminds me of the night before I moved, not knowing iād be gone this long.
I want to bottle these past few weeks in a time capsule. Waking up every day in a double bed (smaller than my Queen in NYC), mum and dad being really loud, bringing me tea and fussing. Talking the dog for a walk with mum and helping her with her performance goals for her remote job that she struggles with. Filling out medical forms for my dad and making him breakfast. Endless late night, whispered conversations with my sister Jag about our futures while watching some TV show with the fireplace on and an M&S dessert we probs shouldnāt be eating at 1am. Cooking dinner for the whole family and watching them appreciate all the work and love that goes into making a meal for them. Spending four days in London making selfie videos with my friends that I plan to stitch together in a reel to freeze the moment in time.
The next day, after a crappy nightās sleep, I drove the 2.5 hour drive to the airport with my dad, talking and reflecting. This is a new dynamic for our relationship: Strict Panjabi father who is used to suppressing his emotions meets overly emotionally emo daughter who wonāt stfu. We stopped at services and got a KFC. The words got caught in my throat but in Panjabi I managed to say: āDad, remember how much I love you, more than anything in this world.ā
Like the sheet mask, we always wish we did things sooner and clicheās exist for a reason because itās never too late.
Miss you already