He left

Mum's fussing over his bag and sorting out his shirts...does he have his passport? yup, check. His camera? Check. Air tickets? Check.

I'm standing around listlessly wondering what to do. Already both parents are trying to help him pack and having one more pair of hands to do the job seems ludicrious, but I ambled over to look through his electronic items anyway.

Mobile phone messages keep coming in. All these girls wishing him all the best with some sweet *ahems* in between. I shake my head. Gone are the days of his childhood when he used to vehemently declare he hated girls and would never marry. Heck, he can hardly get them off him now.

Today was a blur. We both slept late and struggled to keep awake in church. Friends gathered around to support him afterwards, the prayers and the usual slaps on the back...the laughter, the advice. Over lunch someone made a comment;

"You both are so close. Have you two ever fought?"

We look at each other. Amused. Oh yeah we fought when we were little--he used to throw toys at me and I remember slapping him once. And trying to hush his crying afterwards for fear of my parents' fury. I suddenly recall random events of the past. Like how our family drove to a Macdonalds drive-through on the way to church. All five of us happily ordered our meals through the microphone and drove round the other way to collect them and- of course, pay. Except we ALL (coincidentally, I assure you) did not bring our wallets/purses. SO we sheepishly told the woman at the counter that we didn't have any money. She took one glance at five of us in the Audi and raised her eyebrows, mouth slightly agape. Later that night, we had to borrow some money from Dad's friend to get us some dinner. AND we also got caught by a traffic policeman for speeding...but were not able to show any forms of identification. Heh :p

Hey, let's have a thumb war...'1, 2, 3, 4, I declare a thumb war!!'

The car rambled along on the familiar route to the airport. There we go again, playing this childish game since we were kids. But it'll be a number of months before we can poke each other in the ribs and play thumb wars in the car.

KLIA is a huge airport. We walk around, grab a light meal and a drink. People everywhere...with friends, with family, with special someones. I give him a run down of things to watch out for, things to keep in mind. Watch your back, I tell him, not everyone is trustworthy. And grow up, man!

He's leaving now. Waves, goodbyes, more prayers, and 'yes, I'll be fine, mum, it's just 6 months!'. I can't believe he's 18, we were kids a moment ago. Now we're all leaving the nest. I'll be the one saying my goodbyes in 3 days.

It's raining now outside the airport. He's left.