It was as if it were a day, or just part of a day. That’s how time passed with our gurbetci. They left, leaving behind a silence heavier than words – dark and closed houses, tearful parents, brothers and sisters, friends and companions.

As if they arrived just yesterday, and already today they left. The yards weren’t even warmed by their presence yet, and suitcases were already packed once more.

We barely greeted them with the words: “Welcome, how was your journey?”, and immediately after, with heavy hearts, we asked the question we all knew: “When are you leaving?”.

The rest lasted exactly between those two questions. Short, too quick, insufficient. But that’s life. They have already taken that path – the path of earning, of sacrifice, of distance – and they must go. For bread, for the future, for the family.

Labunishta remained to wait again. To wait for a new summer, a new winter, a new holiday. To keep the memories of evenings filled with laughter, of farewell hugs, of tears silently falling at bus and airport stations, and at doorways.

To all gurbetci, we wish a safe journey. May Allah grant them health and prosperity in their endeavors, and guard them wherever they are. May they carry Labunishta in their hearts, wherever they go, and we here promise – the trust of Labunishta will be kept. We will keep it with love, with hope, and with constant anticipation of the next meeting.

Because this is not a goodbye. This is just “until next time”.