a muddled rainy goodbye inside my head

It hit me on a rainy afternoon.
It hit me like a swift punch in the guts.
Like a cold clammy hand seizing you from behind.

I stuck my head out of the auto and let the rain soak me. Distracting me for a moment as the delightfully cold droplets slipped into my eyes, behind the contact lenses and the world went blurry for a second.
I blinked furiously as I attempted to focus on the familiar roads.

I had grown up here. Cycling like a madman, stealing guavas from irate neighbours. Walking down the road calmly, so covered in mud that the crowds in the street parted to let me pass, after an afternoon of football in the rain. The disregard that only familiarity can bring.

It hit me when he asked me which one of my guitars I would take with me. I stared at him for a moment.

Then comprehension dawned. Like the first ray of light breaking through the heavy shroud of cumulo-nimbus on a monsoon morning.

It was time, to pack up what little I call my own, apart from these streets and this city. It was time to leave.