TWO YEAR ITCH

I'm sitting at the table of this quaint little restaurant called the Columbia Cafe and there are two things to keep me Company -- the countless thoughts running through my head and you. 

You're busy texting someone. Maybe it's a work thing. I try to look at my phone and hope someone messages me or calls me so that I can pretend to be busy as well. But only my thoughts keep me busy. I try to login to Facebook : I guess that's what people do these days, login to Facebook or Twitter and the like when you have to wait for someone or you smoke a cigarette and kill time. Is this what 2 years of our marriage has come down to? We have nothing left to say to each other anymore? Is this how it feels to be lonely amidst so many people? When someone close to you, someone who once held your hand in the crowd has become the crowd itself?

We haven't looked each other in the eye for quite some time. The old lady with her dainty pink umbrella, carefully avoiding the small puddles of water around the edge of the street has walked past us. I think she walked at snails pace. I noticed that she seemed happy by herself and that she was just back after buying a fresh pack of groceries. Maybe she's going back to her husband. Perhaps she lives alone. I check if there's something interesting playing on tv. But they're playing a cricket match. Something that has interested me only during the world cup fever. Once in 4 years. I've noticed at least 15 cars pass by in the mean time. Most of them, white in colour. The little girl in the cafe has already relished the whole basket of her garlic bread with cheese by herself. Not letting her parents take one bite.

You are still busy texting!

I try to indulge you in a conversation over my already cold coffee .

"You want to try this new colombian dessert: The banoffee pie? Maybe we can share it "

"hmmmm"

Hardly paying attention to what I just said. One of the countless thoughts running through my head is to end this bout of self enduring pain. I reflect on the happier days. The days of real togetherness. When my words didn't pass through a translucent you, so easily. Thats the only reason I don't want to cut this thread. But maybe it will let me loose as well. Finally, you look at me. You ask me,

"What were you saying?"

I just say "Nothing, nothing important" and continue to sip my already cold coffee.

SO LONG ....

It is recommended that when you say goodbye to someone you hold that person closely in your arms for one whole breath -- in and out .

Goodbyes are considered to be blessings in most cultures . Blessings that will wish each other good luck for the times to come; being thankful for the wonderful times spent together. Most times you know that you are saying goodbye. You're at the airport or at the train station and you wait until she has turned a corner or the train has started moving and you have no sight of her anymore. The one saying goodbye, just tends to linger in the moment. Trying to figure out, what exactly happened. Wondering if he really said something meaningful so that he could express exactly how hard it was to say goodbye. I remember, once when I was saying goodbye to a friend, I just stood there at the door and we stared at each other, so hard -- as if in that moment she knew everything I had to say -- almost reaching out to my soul and pulling it out until the doors of the subway closed and brought me back to life.

You say goodbye to a person you've made some memories together with, to a city where you once lived, to the smell, the food and the beauty the city has to offer even in its dark crevices and smelly corners. Sometimes you say goodbye with a smile and sometimes you say goodbye with a sprinkle of tears. That's how I said my last goodbye to New York City . I remember, I was at Union Square . Me and some of my friends had frozen yogurt in the village -- the one where you can pick as many flavours as you want, get countless toppings and pay based on the weight. I stood there, below this tree and the statue of the Suicide man on top of one of the buildings at Union Square. I tried to fit most of that visual imagery in my memory, save it in my hard drive- never to be lost. And I balled, I cried like a baby, mostly because I thought I might not get back there soon. And I haven't, yet . Maybe in those tears I lost some of the visual data. Because I cant remember it vividly . I've always been horrible at saying goodbyes. I've hated departures of any kind and it always tears me apart to let go.

But sometimes, you will not even realise but you might have already said your last goodbye. You will not realise what hit you and she'll already be gone. Flash! Boom!

You might have already got in and out of the car, kissed on the cheek--trying to not let the driver notice it from the corner of his eye, wondering why these two people are kissing in the first place -- and said see you later 'sweetie' or something . That's not how the Indians say goodbye, he must wonder . But yes, you've already said goodbye and I've bid you adieu without noticing that we have already seen the last of each other. In that moment, I've kissed goodbye to the tattoo of the gecko on your wrist . I don't remember which hand - left or right. Thought I'd kissed it too many times to not forget. But I forgot .

And maybe you forgot to share that connection between the heart and the breath for one whole breath; you forgot to say goodbye.