Well Malcolm, it’s your birthday tomorrow. It’s your birthday already on the East Coast, right now. You’d be 44 if you’d stuck around but it’s sixteen and a half years since you left, can you believe it? I was thinking of you today, as I often do. Thinking about how for the three days between our birthday’s I was older than you. Now each birthday I think how you’ve widened that gap, year after year. But you kind of cheated, really.
I was driving with my young friend this evening as the sun set as it can only on the West coast. We raced the sun home and the music blasted from the radio and my young friend hit the 100km speed limit on the field lined straights and then accelerated towards the railway crossing because the tiny lift on the other side makes me laugh as the bottom drops out of my stomach. The wind rushed through my hair and the sun was still warm on my face as it said it’s goodbye to the day.
It reminded me of you with your big car and your lush sheepskin seat covers that just swallowed me up. You, holding my hand as you drove, our linked hands resting on the console in between us. You, driving through the night up the coast to your parents place, your new girlfriend in the seat beside you, me leaning between the back seats so we could chat while she slept.
Gosh we were young! And you will be, always. I may be older but I’m not old yet. I can still feel he sun on my face, the wind in my hair, the bottom of my stomach drop and the music in my heart.
“She’s gonna make it through the night”
Safe onward travel my friends x