The anticipation of what lay ahead dawned on me the night before the significant event. Around 7 pm on the eve, I began displaying signs of zoning out, unmistakably noticed by my family.
I diligently prepared for the morning expedition, packing both bags, which weighed approximately 3 kg. The contents covered all essentials for survival, including gloves, walking shoes, extra footwear, wet wipes, and a variety of survival snacks, and so forth.
As I ascended and descended the stairs, refilling the bags and organizing my post-it notes, my 18-year-old daughter approached me gently, offering reassurance, “Dad, you’ve done this multiple times, so don’t worry. Everything will be fine, just as you committed and promised.” Her words brought a sense of relief.
After taking a paracetamol, I retired early, expecting a restful night’s sleep. However, I found myself disturbed, waking at 2 am for a glass of water. Despite returning to bed, the morning alarm jolted me awake, and the butterflies in my stomach returned. While the temperature had been 18 degrees a day ago, it had plummeted to 5 degrees on the day of the Herculean task. A 15-minute walk lay ahead before the formal commencement.
Though I had undertaken similar challenges in the past, it had been ages ago. Nevertheless, a myriad of unanswered questions plagued my mind:
How would I face the public?
Would I recognize everyone when I arrived?
How should I react to familiar and unfamiliar faces?
Handshake or fist bump with familiar acquaintances?
Could I recall the entire trail with various terrains, uphill and downhill?
Setting aside these thoughts, I had a light breakfast, struggled to find fitting attire due to changes in shape and size, and embarked on the journey.
The day was bitterly cold, hands freezing as I reached the first transit point. Despite encountering difficulties at two more points and briefly losing the trail, I persevered. Transit challenges posed obstacles, exacerbated by the burden of the backpack and additional luggage.
Finally, after enduring a rollercoaster of emotions, I reached the target spot. Before stepping onto the first staircase, I instinctively turned back, backpack still on, wanting to wave at my mom and dad, akin to my five-year-old self on the first day of school. However, no one was there, and tears welled up. The desire to retreat and run back home, reminiscent of my initial school days, lingered.
Indeed, after precisely 742 days, I was returning to the office, marking my first day back after two years of working from home.
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