I was excited about going to a new town, a new college, and above all, being on my own–nobody would be telling me about wake-up time and curfew hours. I was fascinated with the rewards and privilege that intermediate graduation brought to me. On the surface it was just like any other hot July day in my home, but for me it was a day with mercurial-like emotions ranging from the high of the excitement about my beginning of new phase of life, to a mid-level of nostalgia and memories, and finally to a low of sadness and emptiness. And then I suddenly went down my memory lane.
I remembered the first day my mother and father dropped me off at kindergarten and how they felt strange and overly concerned and sad. I remembered them waving their hands when I entered my examination hall for high school and intermediate exams. I knew it was time to go. The car was packed and everyone was ready. It was my mom who lingered and who was procrastinating. It seemed as if she wanted to have one more conversation with her daughter, one more attempt to tell me all I would ever need to know about life and the real world. She wanted to prepare me for college life, and try and help me avoid mistakes. As if 18 years of togetherness seemed very less to her and she sought for some more time.
One of the most helpful things that my parents told me at the time of saying good-bye is something to the effect, “Take good care of you, and even better care than we took of you.” Then I noted a lump in my throat and a tug at my heart. The copious water of love and concern drenched their eyes. My heart was also left wet by emotional tides and the salty water escaped through my eyes. I consoled myself as there was no mother’s lap for that purpose now and took a step further towards my goal enshrouding the cherished memories and unconditional love within my heart.