27 January 2012
Over a year ago, I embarked on the longest, furthest and biggest journey of my life. I packed my bags, hugged my family farewell at the airport and flew over 9500 miles to the United States, transiting only in Singapore and Hong Kong for a few hours.
Months before I left the cozy apartment I grew up in, I was excited for this transition. But as the weeks closed in, my heart grew weary. As I stood in front of my suitcases (both brimming with clothes, food and other necessities for my 2-year stay in America), the sharp truth of leaving started to sink in, bruising my thoughts and stabbing my heart until it ached with sadness.
I didn't want to leave my comfort zone and my family and friends. What if I didn't like it in the States? What if I got incredibly homesick? What if I had an awful roommate in my dorm?
I was going to a foreign place on my own, far, far away from the comfort of home. I hadn't imagined leaving to be so painful.
Suddenly, I found myself longing for one more week in Malaysia to spend with my loved ones. Time seemed to be speeding by when I wasn't looking.
Then one morning, I woke up and realized the day I'd been looking forward to 6 months ago, was now the day I was dreading. I glanced at my bedroom for the last time, at the aquamarine walls, the white tiled floor, the single bed with the floral pastel bedspread. I rolled my suitcases out into the living room, where I stared at the paintings hanging on the pale yellow walls and ran my fingers along the side of my dad's favorite armchair.
On the way to the airport, I sat in the backseat between my two best friends. My phone was constantly beeping with farewell texts and phone calls. I was silent throughout the journey.
At the airport, my friends and family hugged me before I went into the departure hall. I hugged my awkwardly tall brother and told him to study hard. My parents squeezed me tightly and made me promise that I'd take good care of myself.
"Skype with us twice a week, even if you're busy with classes." "We miss you." "We love you so much. Always remember that.
It was hard for them to release their daughter into the realms of a totally new world; one they'd never seen before.
I tried to hold back my tears and forced a pained smile. But when I saw a tear roll down my mother's cheek, my eyes were spiked with tears too. I held on to her for a while, breathing in the scent of fresh bread and apple pies, and buried my face in her shoulder.
An announcement rang through the airport for all passengers on my flight to start heading toward Terminal 3.
"That's you," my mom whispered, sniffling slightly.
I looked up into her liquid brown eyes, with fresh tears spilling from the sides, and nodded.
"I love you." I told my parents, and saw their eyes water even more. I had to get out of here before this got harder.
So I picked up my bags, turned around and descended the escalator leading toward the terminals.
I remember glancing up for the last time and seeing my friends leaning over the steel balcony, waving to me and shouting goodbyes. Among the throng of people, I saw my family at the side. They were smiling at me. My dad has his arm around my mom's shoulder and my brother had his phone out to snap a picture of me.
I flashed them a big, bright, sunshiny smile because that was how I wanted them to remember me.
And then I disappeared into the terminal with the other travelers. When I glanced behind, all I could see were the grim immigration counters and the officers routinely flipping pages on passports and stamping down on them.
As a tear leaked down my right eye, I forced myself to move forward and focus on the journey ahead. But every now and then, I'm reminded of the farewell at the airport, and my heart yearns for the warmth of my family's hugs.
Leaving • Opuss № I