Chapter 1: The Weight of the Suitcases
The air in my home in India was not merely warm; it was thick, textured with the heavy scent of jasmine that drifted from the courtyard, the sharp, oily tang of industrial diesel from the main road, and the comforting, constant smell of my spouse, Riley, cooking dal in the kitchen. For weeks, this house had been a staging ground for a departure that felt less like a trip and more like a surgical procedure. We were not just packing; we were pruning our lives. Everything had to be justified—is this worth the airfare? Is this worth the physical space in a suitcase? Riley moved through the rooms with a focused, quiet intensity that masked a deep well of anxiety. We were packing my life—not into the simple cardboard boxes of a standard move, but into two massive, industrial-grade suitcases that looked like they belonged on an expedition to the poles. These cases were the vessels of my ambition, the containers for a future I was inventing on the fly. My fingers brushed against the ...