A month ago we were visiting one my aunts here. After spending a day and half with her family, it was time to leave and we were in the process of loading the bags into the car. Just as we got ready to bid goodbye, my little cousin noticed the palm sized Mickey Mouse that hung about behind the rear-view mirror. “How cute is that!” she exclaimed. And that comment got me working on moving Mickey out of there and into her hands. K echoed my thoughts; he helped me get Mickey out of his constricted state. Within a couple of minutes, we handed Mickey over to her, and then we left.
Mickey had been with me for at least eight years. I’d hung him there the day the car came to be mine and it’s been his home ever since. He’d been enjoying all the trips with us so far. So, understandably, seeing him go pinched the strings of my heart a wee bit, albeit only for a few microseconds. I wasn’t essentially too attached to that toy in any way – when he was around, I’d hardly paid any attention to him… only when someone (read: Amma or K) deliberately disturbed him, I would get bothered; else, his presence always went unnoticed; it was just that he had been an integral part of all the fun rides so far, and the void came about abruptly. Nevertheless, I was mature enough to see that my cousin would cherish his existence more than I ever did, and she would most definitely adore him and love him incomparably. So letting him go wasn’t as hard as I may have thought it would be.
As we drove back home that evening, K kept insisting that he would get me another Mickey to hang there since he didn’t want me to miss Mickey all that much. I dismissed his thoughtfulness saying that I was indeed ok and I didn’t really have any special liking towards Mickey to begin with.
Mickey and I had parted ways. I was glad that Mickey had found a new home, and I moved on.
Fast forward a month to yesterday…
I am working from home. K walks in with a package in his hand. When I ask him what it is, he promptly answers that it is for his friend (a friend of his has recently moved here and he’s been forwarding his mails to our address). And I let it be as we’ve been getting mails/parcels every other day for the said friend, even though I notice that K’s name, not his friend’s, appears prominently on this particular one. K goes around doing his chores and both of us get busy getting ready for an evening out. Just as it is time to step out, K grabs the scissors and cuts open the envelope. I stand there, befuddled, watching him and wondering why he is opening his friend’s mail.
And out the envelope comes a TARDIS key-chain.
My jaw drops. My eyes open as big as an owl’s. My smile is as wide as an ocean. My heart goes on a thrill ride, beating rhythms of perpetual delight. My mind goes wild with euphoria. This is one of the coolest things ever, I am thinking to myself. I grab it from him and gape at it as if I’ve been starved of any amusing sight for a long time.
“It’s for the car,” K says, “you can hang it there. Hopefully this will bring a smile on your face every time you see it, and hopefully you will be more attached to it.”
“Of course, of course. For a self-proclaimed Doctor Who fanatic, having the TARDIS along every time I drive / ride in that car would feel nothing but perfect. Thank you, love.” I don’t recall if I said these words out loud to him or if I merely played it all in my mind, lest I lose focus on the magnificent miniature time traveling machine replica resting on my palm.
So, yeah, in a month it’s gone from Bye-Bye Mickey to Hello TARDIS. Life is beautiful, indeed.