I know you hate when I do this, but like so many times before, here I am, doing it anyway.
The title is the start-up message on your old phone. It's funny, the things one remembers.
"This is sad, isn't it" I said, and you said I gambled away a lifetime of music for just one night.
I felt your resolve all the way across the line, and I knew there wasn't a thing I could have said, but I tried anyway, and you said you had just two minutes of talktime left.
I dont remember what I said, something about taking care of your health, you said I shouldn't worry and that was all, that was all.
Im going to miss winter because it was when I knew you best.
December 27th to January 10th. And all the years in between.
We got tipsy on the foullest tasting beer, and I thought I could sing. You played along and strummed my sister's old guitar and we sang song after song after song amounting to nothing.
You stir non-stop when you cook.
We drank cup after cup of black tea and shared the same smoke afterwards.
You took me out one night and I got hungry. We ate the foullest tasting pulao and rode off on an almost empty fuel-tank.
We shared a plate of chop-suey, and sulked when they brought us an extra bowl of soup that we had to pay for; we were that broke. And yet we were immensely rich.
There was you and me, rifling through your dad's old books in that dusty, old cupboard.
You said you had vague memories of a man whose name you don't remember, whom you adored as a child. You feared that the same would happen with you and my nephew. He says he's going to grow up to be you. Sometimes he asks where you are. I tell him you've gone to work. He says he wants to go to work too.
You jumped in the air and clicked your heels together. I tried and tried, but I cant make myself look as light-footed as you do. I insisted on standing up on the swing; you stood nearby, arms outstretched, ready to break my fall. I insisted on climbing up a tree and moving from there onto the roof. You didn't want to, but you climbed up with me anyway so that you could catch me if I fell.
But it's impossible for someone to break another's fall every time, wasn't it?
What crazy joke are you into right now? What song are you listening to? Do you still wear that football jersey that I hated? Chelsea beat Arsenal last night and I found myself wanting to congratulate you.
Somehow it all just feels really unfair. The trip to the Living Root Bridge, camping out under the stars, staying in a houseboat, hogging our kids' toys, growing old together, dying together- all the things we said we'd do but never gotten round to doing. I lost them all, so I guess I lose.
And I will always look back.
You always put me first and that somehow broke my heart.
My first love and my muse, over and over again.
The title is the start-up message on your old phone. It's funny, the things one remembers.
"This is sad, isn't it" I said, and you said I gambled away a lifetime of music for just one night.
I felt your resolve all the way across the line, and I knew there wasn't a thing I could have said, but I tried anyway, and you said you had just two minutes of talktime left.
I dont remember what I said, something about taking care of your health, you said I shouldn't worry and that was all, that was all.
Im going to miss winter because it was when I knew you best.
December 27th to January 10th. And all the years in between.
We got tipsy on the foullest tasting beer, and I thought I could sing. You played along and strummed my sister's old guitar and we sang song after song after song amounting to nothing.
You stir non-stop when you cook.
We drank cup after cup of black tea and shared the same smoke afterwards.
You took me out one night and I got hungry. We ate the foullest tasting pulao and rode off on an almost empty fuel-tank.
We shared a plate of chop-suey, and sulked when they brought us an extra bowl of soup that we had to pay for; we were that broke. And yet we were immensely rich.
There was you and me, rifling through your dad's old books in that dusty, old cupboard.
You said you had vague memories of a man whose name you don't remember, whom you adored as a child. You feared that the same would happen with you and my nephew. He says he's going to grow up to be you. Sometimes he asks where you are. I tell him you've gone to work. He says he wants to go to work too.
You jumped in the air and clicked your heels together. I tried and tried, but I cant make myself look as light-footed as you do. I insisted on standing up on the swing; you stood nearby, arms outstretched, ready to break my fall. I insisted on climbing up a tree and moving from there onto the roof. You didn't want to, but you climbed up with me anyway so that you could catch me if I fell.
But it's impossible for someone to break another's fall every time, wasn't it?
What crazy joke are you into right now? What song are you listening to? Do you still wear that football jersey that I hated? Chelsea beat Arsenal last night and I found myself wanting to congratulate you.
Somehow it all just feels really unfair. The trip to the Living Root Bridge, camping out under the stars, staying in a houseboat, hogging our kids' toys, growing old together, dying together- all the things we said we'd do but never gotten round to doing. I lost them all, so I guess I lose.
And I will always look back.
You always put me first and that somehow broke my heart.
My first love and my muse, over and over again.
