No one. No one will remember.

One noon after work, i decided to drop by to my then office. It was still the very same office; my things are still neatly sitting there as i left it. (i remember kidding mija not to let anyone touch my stuff else...) 

I sat there. And once more, made connections with the comfort brought by the blue swivel chair that once been claimed as mine. i closed my eyes and laid my back to its just-right firmness.  My palms went over the curves of it as my fingertips slide into the sides of my wooden table’s glass imperfection. I flip over to the pages of my counselees’ records. One thing is for sure, i broke my promise. I can no longer be there for them. The idea breaks me. 

Two and half years, i said to myself. Who can forget the first day i sat on that chair? Who can forget the first time i made a memo letter for that office? Who can forget the very first student i encountered, and the very first one who came back and to say thank you? and who can forget the very first time my boss gave me his popular hand gesture?

No one. No one will remember. 

Two and half years. It did not take me a lifetime. How come every inch of that room reminds me so much of myself? How come i feel a part of me has been left in every corner, in every space, in every paper and in everything existing inside that room? 

I was filled with emotions, if only i could sat in one corner and sleep there till my dreams take me to neverland, so i can feel that at least for a night, the whole thing had been mine.

But as darkness eats the dusk, i know i had to leave. and i just be thankful. 


(well, that afternoon was my way of saying a sweet goodbye. sorry if i invaded the office without any permission.  promise, that will be the last time. thank you.)