I remember I was very small then. Hardly seven, or eight. Dad had gone on a trip to Hyderabad, some office work as usual. For ten whole days. And to me, at that time, it was sheer joy! To live without the stern scrutiny, the impeccable discipline, the freedom to finally be the true brat I was, and not continuously live up to the rumour of being "an obedient kid" was unexpected bliss. Well, everyone in my family expected me to miss him, and I told them I did. Miss him? Oh please, he could stay there another ten days if he wanted. I simply lied to everyone.
My father leaves tomorrow. For home. And the thought of seeing him off disturbs me to an extent I never thought possible. Maybe this is what living in a foreign country, amongst unknown people, with an undecided future, does to you. It gives you perspective. It slaps you where it hurts the most and points a very rude finger to that which is truly important. And maybe you realise you have grown up when you see your parents grow old. I for one, have never shed a tear whenever my parents saw me off. But tomorrow, I am not sure anymore....
But I will smile, and pretend I am okay, and that I can very well manage..... I can still lie.