A Memoir

I remember the first night she spent here, in my proximity. Seven years ago. A scared 14 year old, she jumped up at every minute sound- real and imaginary. There was an instant when she almost ran outside, to her parents; but stayed back due to some magical willpower. And she has stayed, ever since. 

She mostly reads in my company; she occasionally tattooed on me, played ball with me and shared with me every exam scheduled for her. She loved to collect Harry Potter paraphernalia and went about it furiously. Then came this queer contraption she sat with often. She fiddled with it continually and the device even sang for her, played movies for her and had her enraptured. I was jealous- her long contemplations, face-to-face with me, were remarkably reduced. Still, I tolerated it. I was happy to see her study hard and bore her occasional barrage of French words at me, with patience- maybe she was in for something good, though she was always cynical about it. 

To the world, she appeared to be a nerd. But I knew better than that. 

Then there came a time when she was in a mild dilemma. She almost left me. But she chose not to, for several reasons (and I am sure that missing me was one of them!). 

The four years following that most fortunate decision have been the most interesting ones for me. I have seen her in various moods, going through phases- good and bad, making mistakes as well as a few right decisions. I am happy to say that I have truly stood by her through everything.

But even the best of times must come to an end. And she is leaving me. She will return, occasionally, for a handful of days at a stretch. But it will not be like the old times. 

Oh, come on. I should stop feeling bad. In fact, I should not feel anything at all. After all, I am just a wall in her room.