The day I had to leave came far too quickly.
On holidays, time has a cruel habit of speeding up just when you’ve found something that makes you wish it would stand still. I packed my things almost mechanically, unable to convince my heart that this was only a temporary goodbye.
We had plans. We kept telling each other we would meet again in October. It was a future close enough to feel certain, yet far enough away to hurt. I kept reminding myself there was no reason to turn my departure into a tragedy. Two months could pass quickly when two people wanted the same thing.
When the moment came to say goodbye, a fence stood between us. I can still picture that familiar figure on the other side. That gaze fixed on me. The way, for a few seconds, everything around us seemed to disappear. I blew kisses across the distance. I smiled. Maybe I even made a silly gesture, just to hide how difficult it was to leave.
And I didn’t turn back.
That is the sentence that has continued to hurt me. I didn’t turn back for one more hug. I didn’t run back. I didn’t try to make our final moment last a little longer. I believed October would give us enough time for all the hugs we hadn’t shared yet.
On the plane, or perhaps only after I arrived home, I began replaying the same scene in my mind.
The fence.
The eyes looking back at me.
The kisses blown through the air.
I told myself that next time, I wouldn’t rush. That next time, I would hold that person close without looking at the clock. That I would stay there a few seconds longer, without thinking about luggage, the journey ahead, or the people waiting for me. I didn’t know that memory could turn one small gesture into a room you return to night after night.
Later, I would wake from my sleep calling out a name, as though I could somehow change the distance between us simply by saying it aloud. As though my voice could reach beyond that fence. As though, if I called loudly enough, time might turn back a few seconds. But on that day, our goodbye still held hope.
It held imaginary tickets, plans, messages, and promises. We weren’t two people saying goodbye forever. We were two people who believed we were saying “see you soon.” And maybe that was exactly why I didn’t turn back. Because I didn’t know how to recognise a moment I would one day regret.
Because I didn’t know there were hugs you could miss without realising you had missed them. Because I was so certain there would be a next time. And if I had known how much that moment would haunt me, I would have turned back.
Without thinking.
Without rushing.
Just for one more hug.
To be continued…
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