Fifteen Seconds

#52: Going Home Alone

I was the second to the last person to leave the office. (So what's new?) I could've left earlier to do some shopping. It's almost Christmas and I haven't made significant progress with it but today just didn't seem to feel right for that. If my room hadn't started getting filled with presents, I wouldn't even feel guilty about not doing something to get the mandatory buying done. (Mandatory buying isn't fun. Random and pure impulse shopping is.)

Entering the elevator, I made a mental note to pass by SMBix, our friendly neighborhood shopping mall, before going home. (We all hate the traffic jam that monstrous mall makes, but we all love it for being there and being open till 10p.m.) The elevator descended smoothly. 15 seconds is all it takes to go from the 22/F to the ground floor. 15 seconds of deathly silence that magnifies aloneness. It stopped at the 19/F. A couple hopped in. He was holding her hand and looking at her with much tenderness. He told her that there was pizza in the car. Hardly the most romantic thing to say but he said it in such a loving way. She shook her head and said that she had just brushed her teeth. (So? You can brush them again. Eat the thing. He bought it for you.) He shrugged. They were both on the heavy side. (On the other hand, maybe both of you should stay away from the pizza. What the heck is that thing doing in your car?)

We got off quickly and headed in separate directions. Crossing the street from our office building to the parking building is also not my favorite part of the day. As with the elevator ride, it has this haunting effect. The solitary set of footsteps echoing throughout the floor populated only by two other cars is hardly the thing you associate with holiday cheer. Not even the stuff of plain old non-holiday cheer, I tell you. I couldn't help but sigh as I loaded my stuff at the back. I dread having to bring home all the other gifts tomorrow. Carrying them alone and wrestling with my car keys, doors and compartments will definitely be a circus act. (Come see me for free.)

There used to be a time when trips to parking lots weren't such sad things. I remember moments in the past when the echoes they produced only heightened giggles or amplified excited rundowns of the day's events. These are harder to remember now.

Have I unknowingly gotten old? Or gotten lonely?

Reviewing all the personal comments & parting wishes my colleagues and superiors gave, I realize that most of them associated me with cheerfulness or vibrancy or zest for life. They are right. I am after all named after a very positive emotion. I can never be sad. Well, not in front of people anyway. Or not in front of me.

But sometimes, when it's almost Christmas and I'm driving home alone, it just makes me wonder if I have to somehow already admit that sometimes, I am. Maybe, despite my previous resistance to it, just maybe, I am actually allowed to feel sad... maybe even for just 15 seconds or so.