A stand for independence

There was a brief period of frenzied panic. And when I say panic, I don't mean it lightly. I mean the breath-constricting, thought-disorienting, pulse-quickening state of agitation.

It started with Doobie surveying her room in dismay.
"I have less than 6 hours for my flight and I haven't even started packing yet!!" She wailed. I gingerely entered her room to survey the extent of crisis. And yes, the crisis was extensive.

There was a large pile in the centre of the room. It consisted of fresh clothes, laundry, socks and shoes, presents for friends and family, and about 20 pounds of chocolate, all balancing precariously on top of each other. Navigating oneself anywhere around the room required making a leap over the ever growing pile. In one corner of the room were two small suitcases, into which one ostensibly supposed that the entire pile was meant to somehow pack itself.

And so Doobie rolled up her sleeves and without further ado, started attacking the pile with renewed determination. As she continued to plug away at it, her progress was punctuated and accompanied by constant mutterings under her breath.

Rush rush rush, and soon enough (far too soon), it was time to go. So together we dragged the suitcases (each weighing about as much as ourselves) down to the road, and hailed a cab. Quickly I hugged her, packed her into the cab, and before I new it, she was off.

I breathed a sigh, feeling suddenly underwhelmed. The moment reminded me of having dropped Bobbis off in her cab, two weeks ago, as she headed off to Bombay. And having said goodbye to Ilajna three days ago, as she headed off to Toronto. And suddenly, as Doobs' cab disappeared around the corner, I realised I was alone tonight.

This is the second night I have ever spent an evening alone in my life. I know, I've counted. The other time was once in London about 4 years ago.

So naturally, when I got back to my apartment, I was somewhat out of sorts. I triple-locked the door, but it wasn't a concern about security, really. It was the odd silence that came from no one calling out 'helllo!!!' when I entered the apartment. And no one squabbling over what program to watch on the telly. Disconcerting, really.

"Are you scared?" Delta asked when he called.
"No, not really, it just feels weird." I couldn't pinpoint it exactly.
"Weird like as in scared weird?"
"No, not at the moment, but I promise if I see a roach or anything I'm going to come running over to yours even if it's the middle of the night." I knew I wouldn't see a roach or anything, but it was comforting to say that all the same.

Turns out, it wasn't so different from any other night after all. Watched a spot of telly, read a bit, checked my emails and scanned the web. When it got too quiet, I voiced my thoughts out loud, and the inanity of the situation cheered me up instantly.

And most importantly, I survived to tell the tale. Now I know, having done it twice before, that I can indeed survive a night or two by myself.