Yet now, the instrument is out of tune and we’ve
Forgotten how to play. I squeeze the concluding
Cigarette residing in the pocket. Lifting it to my
Lips just as your hand falls, a silent juxtaposition.
Flames dance around my eyes as I watch
Your green Khaki hat drift slowly away.
”Goodbye just means ‘I’m going to miss you until I see you again”
For the past two years, I think I have spent possibly three quarters of it travelling the world. And myself. When you do this romping-flitting-and-altogether-having-a-jolly-old-time sort of affair, there is most definitely going to have to be a goodbye in there somewhere. The initial ones are some of the easier ones, for you that is. Your mum, your friends, your family. Hell! You’re going off to have the most spectacular adventures in the world, literally, and they get to wait for your safe return when you know you can kiss, hug and splurged your latest findings upon them. You know you are going to be in their arms by the end of the year. You forget though, the ones left behind find it the hardest. They’re not gallivanting across the planet, passport in hand, ready to leap frog into the nearest country. They get to thoroughly enjoy themselves by still drinking tea, still cursing the weather, still shaking their fist at the government. But oh! you’ve given them a new and extremely great addition – They get to worry. For months on end. Thinking up all these crazy things that you might get yourself into. How nice for them.
See, 2 types of ‘goodbye’ and you haven’t even left the country yet! Then there are fantastically easy ones! That highly irritating Australian woman who works on a uranium mine in the middle of the beautiful ‘Bush’ and thinks it’s all well and good. Douche. The young Turkish boy who has been following you around Istanbul for the past three days, antipasti in hand. Or, perhaps, the stinking, rotting, heinous smell of the dirty city of Mumbai, your brain frazzled by the horrendousness of it all, your eyes tired from crying with the poor, hungry and needy. The idiots, annoying and too hard to cope with. See ya’!
Unfortunately, then comes the beautiful souls that somehow wiggle their pretty little bottoms into your hemisphere and decide that you want them in your life, for you. And you love them. Irrevocably. Those people that you may never see again. Hitch-hiking down the South West of Oz with nothing but $10, a cake, a really large scarf and an insane young Belgian lad. The scarf happened to come in handy when we got stranded in a small town and half way back to where our tents were (about 150 kilometres away) and HAD to sleep on a really soft and warm picnic table. It’s all shits and giggles.. Well, my mother didn’t really find it that amusing at the time. I think she may have had a slight seizure when I updated my Facebook status to, ‘Loved sleeping on a freezing park bench in the middle of Margaret River. With a scarf. Only a scarf. Oh, and a Belgian.’ Awesome.
So, goodbye is everywhere. It seeps into the cracks in our story books and likes to make sure we’re on our toes. Make sure we’re still alive.