Goodbyes

I studied at a boarding school, situated atop gorgeous mountains (appropriately called Shangrila hill) with a view of the majestic, serene, white snow-capped Himalayas. What more could one ask for? But as a child, I wonder if the beauty of the place struck me enough not to miss home and family. I joined the boarding at just age 5, (there were younger children as well). My mother tells me she remembers the first day they went to drop me. I ran around with great excitement saying, "Look mummy mountain!". They left me there while I was still excited and exploring.
Not to say that I didn't have a good time at school or that I was always pining for family. Not at all! I have the most wonderful memories of hostel life. I think the only part I disliked were the goodbyes. Oh those were painful.

Nothing is so dear as what you're about to leave. - Jessamyn West

At the end of the holidays as we approached the road to the school in our car on an uphill winding road, the school signboard, a huge arch located on top of the large gate, was the first physical sign of school. As it came into sight, so did the tears. Sometimes just quiet and gentle, rolling off the cheeks and other times accompanied by howls and sobs. I wonder how that must have upset the parents and broken their heart. After all they would go back to an emptier house while I would plunge into a busy school calendar, lots of friends, lots of activity, favourite teachers, outings, movies and so much more.
This ritual, this expression of love and longing and missing happened twice a year for 11 years that I was there.
Its left a bitter taste for goodbyes. I don't care for them much. I want them to pass quickly, suddenly and without any emotion. For if I dwell on a goodbye, if it takes its own sweet time, hugs and kisses and talk, then the flood gates open again.