I brought it with me sixteen years ago when I moved to Wellington.
It had been tucked away at the very back of a drawer.
When I opened the screen, the keyboard cought my eye.
The letters were worn, the surface faded.
I pressed one key without thinking.
I really used this, didn’t I.
My mother bought it in Japan and brought it to me in London, more than twenty years ago now.
I can almost feel the desk and chair from that time.
I must have written so many assignments on it. Did I still use it after I started working?
I’m not sure anymore.
With a move to Melbourne ahead, I’ve finally begun sorting through things I’d avoided for years.
I tried turning it on, but it wouldn’t start.
Maybe this is goodbye.
To the student days when it stayed by my side, and to the years it waited there in the dark.
Thank you.