APRIL 2019
The day rolls on in. It’s dissatisfying without a clear path or structure. I don’t enjoy the rambling, which is unusual.
The lack of focus opens the heavy vaulted door that the thoughts of you sit behind. Not enough distraction to keep you at bay.
I sit and watch the surfers and fantasise that one of them is you. That guy with the bob and stocky frame who just threw a hit and sprayed an arch of water skywards will do.
I sit and watch the surfers and fantasise that one of them is you. That guy with the bob and stocky frame who just threw a hit and sprayed an arch of water skywards will do.
I believe in my mind that you’d surf with the same power as him. That you’d be out there washing the stresses and tensions of your week away. Revelling in the start of the long Easter weekend. Surf. Music. Beers.
You’ll be out with the boys at some stage. The pack mentality. Plucking off willing prey in the dark hours of the boozy weekend.
You’ll be out with the boys at some stage. The pack mentality. Plucking off willing prey in the dark hours of the boozy weekend.
It doesn’t bother me too much. I’m more somber at your absence. I miss you in the hours of the day. Looking for you everywhere. It’s a stranger, more inexplicable sadness that I feel this time around.
.
I sense that I’ll see you soon, but I don’t know what I’ll say or what that will look like.
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I sense that I’ll see you soon, but I don’t know what I’ll say or what that will look like.
