I moved into my new place about a week ago. Just a couple of days ago, after work, at 11pm on a Wednesday night, I went back to the old apartment to help my flatmate and her girlfriend clean up and prepare for the handing over of the old place. Not that I helped very much coz by the time I got there, they had pretty much done most of the stuff. I just had to help bring down some things to dump and others to bring over to the current place.
I managed to take a last look at my old room. Despite the fact that I have moved many times in my life, it was perhaps the first time that I was looking at a completely empty room that I had once occupied. There was a certain poignancy in that. It was almost as if the past three years of my life had been voided. As if all the things that I’ve said and done in that room have all been reduced to nothingness. And indeed they have. There is literally nothing left of all that. Except in my memory. And that of Sniffles’ who forms a huge part of that memory. And in that way, he’s the only vessel that carries the same memories of times spent in that room with me. Then again, are the memories the same? People often remember the same things differently. In any case, perhaps that’s why we need people in our lives. Because at the end of the day, places can’t share memories. Only people can. I was sad to see that empty room, seemingly abandoned by me even though it had more than accommodated me for three years. Was it sad to see me go? Perhaps it wasn’t sadness I felt, but the loneliness of an unrequited farewell.