The Journey

And now you're going away.

You're travelling miles. Hundreds of miles, thousands, even. It's a big step in your husband's career, it's a wonderful move for your small daughter. She'll see more of the world and experience a new culture while she retains the wonder of childhood.

It's a ten hour direct flight. You're deciding what to keep, and what to give away. Along with the stuff, you must be sifting the memories, too. If it's this intense for me, how must it be for you? But you have the excitement of a new life as you touch down at your destination. I'll stay here and feel the void.

It's strange, because it hasn't been that long, our friendship. Five years and some months. I've got friends of much longer duration - forty years, fifty years. But it's not the duration that counts, it's the journey together. You're so much younger, too. How is it we vibe so well?

Sumita put her pen down. She almost hurt her eye, brushing the tear away. Damn it! This was childish! Crying because her friend was leaving. Meera was happy, wasn't she? Her husband was doing well, they were going to a lovely country, what on earth was there to cry about? Writing the diary entry was supposed to stop the tears, for goodness' sake, not start them up!

Was that her phone? She had put it on vibrate, not wanting it to ring while she was pouring her feelings out on the page. Oh my goodness, wasn't Meera on the plane?

"Hello!"

"Hello, love, we're about to board, just thought I'd say pip pip!"

Sumita swallowed. "Pip pip," she managed to reply. "Have a - a - nice life and all that sort of thing."

"Life? Wish me a nice flight first. Not easy traveling 10 hours in a plane with a restless four year old. Anyway, pip pip, got to go. They're announcing us."

In her head, Sumita boarded the plane with them. She could see the child, tugging her mother's hand, pointing at this and that, asking what it was. She could see them taking their seats on the aircraft, the mother tucking the seat belt around the child and then heaving the shiny purple carry-all into the baggage hold. The plane was taxiing down the runway, they were airborne!

With a thump, Sumia was back at her desk. She was hungry. Maybe she'd just have buttered toast for dinner ... she didn't feel like eating much, though she was hungry ... saying pip pip to a friend did strange things to the appetite.

Now, they'd be looking at the lights from the window, watching their old city fall away. Would they be seeing clouds? A four year old would surely be excited, flying above the clouds. Or would she be restless, strapped in a seat?

This time, the smell of burning toast brought her back to earth. Not too bad, she could scrape it off, butter it well and eat it still. No point in throwing good bread away. Jam? Meera had given her that jar of home made grape jam. Would they be eating, on the plane, or had they had dinner at home?

But that old place wasn't home to them anymore. They were going home, not leaving it. Would the child be making friends with the airhostesses and stewards, and would they fawn all over her and pamper her to pieces?

The grape jam was as delicious as ever, but now it was bittersweet to Sumita. She felt another tear starting up and blinked rapidly. Grape jam was a nice thing, nothing to cry over.

She hadn't realised before exactly how much a part of her life Meera had become. When the family had travelled within India, she had always heard every detail - who the fellow passengers in the train were, what they'd eaten at each station ... now, from a foreign country, would Meera have the time or the inclination to tell her? She'd have new friends. She'd be in a new environment. It wouldn't be as important ...

She dragged herself to her bedroom and changed into pajamas. It was late. She'd been flying with the family, hadn't felt the time passing. Her friend was journeying away.

Fortunately, sleep came quickly. No tossing or turning.

And she was awakened by a strange buzzing sensation. Her mobile, at her bedside, was vibrating.

"Meera?"

"You still asleep, love? Listen, we landed a minute ago and are heading for the baggage claim, but I had to tell you ..."

"Yes?"

"So I bet you were imagining us boarding the aircraft and getting seat belted and what not."

"How well you know me! And I was imagining the air hostesses pampering ..."

"They pampered her all right, but listen," the mother interrupted, obviously choking back a laugh.

"What?"

"There was something you WOULD NOT have imagined in a million years."

"What?"

"My daughter held up the aircraft!"

"SHE DID WHAT?"

"Held up ..." Meera was laughing so hard now, she was sputtering. "She - she ..."

"Meera, breathe!" Sumita ordered.

"I'm breathing. So listen, this girl has been excited all week, that we're leaving, right?"

"Right."

"So this morning, her excitement reaches a pitch and she doesn't go to the bathroom all day. I try to make her, but she doesn't pee or poop."

"What?"

"Yeah, and just when we're taxiing down the runway, ready for take off, she yells, MAMMA BATHROOM."

Sumita was laughing now too.

Meera continued. "I tried to tell her to wait till the seatbelt sign was off, but she was crossing her legs and wriggling. Then she said, ONE AND TWO BOTH COMING."

"So ..." Sumita sputtered in her turn.

"So they stopped the whole plane so I could take her to the potty. Couldn't have one and two coming on the seat ... We're at baggage, love, pip pip."

Back at her desk, Sumita completed her diary entry.

And we're still on the journey together. No matter where you go or how far or by train or plane, I'll know about important things ... like the little one's visits to the potty!


Words: 1015