Half hour after the expected arrival time, I was waiting in the cold with less than 10 other fellow passengers.
No panic, no anxiety. Only a pair of aching legs and the thought of a late return back home dismayed me slightly. Probably to do with no planned events thereafter and the expectation that the coach might be late, I was surprisingly calm.
I took out my two postcards purchased from Birmingham and started penning my thoughts. My whole body was flowing with thoughts and I felt alive. Reliving the weekend, I thought of Butterflygal who was the main reason why I had the opportunity to make this last minute visit.
Coventry is a small town-quiet but the vibes I received wasn’t exactly positive. On the surface, it seemed tranquil but I didnt get a peaceful feel. It could be the dim street lamps; it could be the lack of water streams; it could be the racist incident that happened on the double-decker bus – I just didnt think it was the most positive place to be and kept imagining that danger might be lurking somewhere, waiting to pop out of the box.
However, meeting up with A was definitely one of hte most fruitful and valuable decisions to make. A chance encounter the year before leading to an exchange of contacts and a reunion emphasized the fact that life is indeed a circle – what goes round eventually come around. Enjoying every moment with her, especially her chicken broth and talking to her housemates, we clicked off instantly on the first day of my arrival as though we havent been out of contact for a while. An inspiring student, she reminded me when I was young and innocent. Believing that grey does not exist was something I never realised till seven to eight years later and even now as I look back, I would never have dreamt that my perspective would actually take such a drastic turn.
A little picture with A carved in my mind on a cold November night – lovely dinner together at a local pub, her introduction to Melot, locating the train station with her on an early Saturday morning and our little walkabouts on foot – a memory I will not forget easily in time to come.