HOTEL ROOM NOSTALGIA

We'll be staying here for a week. You’ve forced me to join you on your vacation and I can hear your words ringing between my ears, “You need this break just as much as I do”. I can’t help but almost hate you for forcing me to be here. I can’t help but feel guilty for coming here with you instead of working. You say “this is exactly why you need a break”. Hustle culture and its disadvantages, I guess. Now we’ve just arrived at this hotel you’ve booked. A small part of me feels thankful for this, yet I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve this. I take a look around and took a deep breath as the piercing smell of hotel-wrapped bath soaps and artificial lime hit me. I let out a small cough realizing that I would have to prepare for the pampered feeling this week.

Everything is so beautiful, and so are you. Take a good look outside through these gargantuan windows. I feel so small looking at these buildings illuminated with office lights below us. I press my palm up against the cold glass window just to feel a little more connected with the bustling world below. You can see everything from this view, every place we'll be going to. It all looks so small from here.

We’re walking on this beautifully carved pavement that I only see in pictures. They don’t have colors like these on the roads back home. You notice, and you point it out. You’re quite observant as you also point out that I’ve been clutching onto my phone for most of the time. Hustle culture has taught me to keep opportunities close. You responded, telling me to keep the “now” closer. Hesitantly, I put my phone away satisfying you but not me. “Learn to have fun”, you say as you grab the cellular device out of my hands. I clutch onto my thumb in an attempt to substitute the grip of the phone. You’re right but I just can’t admit it out loud.

It has been three whole days, can you believe it? A few more and we'll need to go back to our normal 9 to 5 jobs, barely seeing each other within the hours. We've already made so many memories, it almost feels like home. Today felt like our longest day so far. I feel all tired and sweaty as I wait for my turn to shower in this majestic bathroom. It's way too elegant for people like us. All these pristine white tiles and marble countertops make me feel like a royal. We get into these freshly fluffed white sheets laid out just for us. We sleep soundly knowing we're safe on the 14th floor.

Today is our last day here. It is currently 5:37 in the morning and the sun hasn't even blessed us with its presence just yet. You've been quiet this morning, more quiet than usual, and I can read right through you. You don't want to leave, not just yet anyway. We've both made a home out of this completely random hotel room, and we're both the type of people to hold on to things way too hard. We both stay silent for half of the morning as we pack up our stuff. We're getting ready to leave as we brush our teeth at the sink for two. I can see your foamy toothpaste-coated warm smile through the fogged-up mirrors and I can't look away. We look picture perfect just standing there in our fancy white robes. It feels real. Your smile reaches your eyes with a crinkle, yet I see a tinge of sadness as you look back down again. My heart skipped a beat knowing we both felt the same way. I don't want to leave just yet. It's as if we're leaving a part of ourselves in this Hotel Room. I can't help but picture another family, couple, or person occupying this large and exquisite room. I picture laughter, camaraderie, and hope filling up this place all over again, just like we did. I can't help but wonder if they would ever feel as attached to the room as I am. I picture the occupants before us, did they feel the same way? More importantly, do you feel it too? We're leaving a fraction of us right here, and I know that for the rest of my life, I will always have that image of you smiling back at me with your messy hair and your tired, contented eyes through that bathroom mirror. All I see now are future adventures and hotel room moments with you. In between my breaks, all I ever dream of is more moments like these, and I always think back on those moments shared,

In our Hotel Room.

We’re getting ready to leave the place as we both stand together at the threshold. I notice you trying not to look back but I can’t help myself as I look over my shoulder. I take a deep breath before I turn around, in an attempt to take as much as I can from the room, even if it’s a percentage of the air we shared in the past few days. The former smell of hotel bar soaps and lime is almost non-existent at this point. You lock the door for us, I don’t have the heart to do so. All I feel at this point is gratitude, for you forcing me to be here, for this hotel room we’ve made a home out of, for our lives, and most importantly, grateful for you. A small part of me feels as if I’ve wasted half of my time here panicking and wanting to return home. I’ve felt this way before, I keep telling myself not to, but every time an opportunity comes around I go back to my old habits. You’ve taught me so much about appreciating the “now”, yet all I do is wonder what else I could possibly do right now? My heart is full but emptying out as we walk out of the place, my head is filled with “next time’s” and fragments of regret, but you look at me with those reassuring eyes, and once again saw right through me. “To the next adventure?” you asked, in an attempt to make me feel better. “I’ll try to be better next time”, I make the promise, mostly to myself. We stand in the elevator doors knowing it would pull our heartstrings away from this place, but we both accept it. I know it’s wrong but in my head, all I can picture now is the next adventure to come.