The anxiety mounted as each day passed. Each day coming closer to The Day. I was leaving and every day up to The Day brought another goodbye. Goodbye coffees. Goodbye lunches. Goodbye nights out. Goodbye walks in the park. Each one ended with tears, hugs, plans for future visits. The Day was going to be the hardest day. Goodbye parents. Goodbye him.

The relationship had technically ended 5 months earlier. But 4 years doesn’t just End. 4 years takes time to end and The Day was also going to be The End.

I would leave. He would move on. By the time I came back there would be no way back to him.

The Day was looming and with it the dread grew. An unbearable weight. How could I go through with something so final? Something so huge. I couldn’t possibly move any further away and my decision brought with it the last ever night I’d spend in him arms.

He came to the airport. Goodbye parents. Goodbye him.

We clung and wept and waited to the last last minute before I turned and walked through the gates to security.

And that was it. Done.

Through the scans.

Through the gates.

Through the gantry to the door of the plane.

Through the air to the first lay over.

Through the back of the wardrobe.

100 steps from one life through a terminal to a new.

100 steps to Narnia.

I left everyone and everything including myself.

Years later a version of me returned.