The space in between
efforts in saying goodbye
The space in between looks like a white sheet covering all things.
I feel like it’s hovering over me, while I am waiting.
The space in between is made of afternoon light streaming through the palm tree, casting a shadow on the living room wall, at a certain hour of the day.
It’s coffee made in silence, looking at a bug crawling on the wall outside, or a butterfly lingering around, a bit shy, she makes sure not to make herself seen.
The space in between are things amassed on every corner, errands to run thinking of a to-do list that never gets written. The space in between is the now against the before, or after. Is the detail against the general, is the emotion against the rational.
The space in between is friends coming over with kids for last playdates, shopping paying attention not to buy too much, wondering if this is the last time you’ll buy that brand of coconut cream because maybe you won’t use that much coconut cream in Europe anyway.
And you’ll miss your coconut cream, like you’ll miss the quiet of the kitchen at six am when the only smell around is the one coming out of the coffee jar. You’ll miss your spice cabinet, and your box full of tea you never drink.
The space in between is saying goodbye to furniture and stuff that surrounded you for so long. Chewed, scratched, and full of life.
It’s understanding that is time to let go.
The space in between is waking up with birds chirping paying attention to them because perhaps you won’t hear them again for a while even if you know they do have birds in Europe.
The space in between is going down the stairs first thing in the morning and spotting a corner of the neighbor house with the round leaves tree you don’t know the name of, you think of how many times you paid attention to that view just so that you could divert your thoughts into something outside of yourself.
The space in between is teeming with details, particulars of a life that shrunk to be contained within these walls for over a year and now cries to expand again. A shelter for the darkest storm, a place that cradled you and protected you during grief, during fear, and during the process of making a life-changing decision. These details like flowers in a vase, petals scattered on the floor, shadows overlapping your feet, allowed you to cultivate hope. And it is with this sense of hope and fullness that you are leaving this beloved city, penning the end of a chapter that will probably stay in your memories like one of the happiest, and the saddest and the wildest your imagination could ever conceive.
Until a new beginning, farewell Hong Kong, you treated me kindly and I won’t forget.