The first time I ever laid eyes on you, you were looking out through a window on Charing Cross Road. I knew instantly that you were the one.
I stepped in from the cold…and the rest is history.
Our history – it was all meant to be. I will never forget the moments that we’ve shared together. My faithful one.
You were there when I began my journey through Italy, and there as I walked into the Brazilian night. We’ve seen sleepy, romantic lakes and exciting new cities.
I’ve lost count of the number of hotel rooms we’ve slept in over the years. The familiar click of a heavy door shutting behind us will stay with me forever.
We’ve been on quite a journey, you and I.
Do you remember the times we ran through airports with seconds to spare? Or the ones where we soared peacefully above oceans below?
We’ve struggled over cobbles and glided over concrete; travelled on tracks and roads and currents of air. You’ve been lifted and pulled and dragged and thrown. And still you stayed right by my side. There as I cried in the rain. And kissed in the dark. And laughed on a train. And fell.
And got back up again.
So seeing your handle, finally broken and sitting next to a bin, makes me a little sad – sad that you will never again be hauled off a carousel in a brand new country. And sad that you won’t get to see my face as I laugh once again at the little moments that life can bring.
But with every ending comes a new beginning.
And I look forward to the day when you return, in a different form, to once again run with me through an airport with just seconds to spare.