So Kevin and I met on the patio of the Fox and Fiddle, happy to be there despite the chill. He and his girlfriend are moving out of the neighbourhood next week. (His girlfriend was busy packing the delicate stuff, so it was just Kevin and me, knocking back the pints.) He handed me a book: "The Wanderers" by Richard Price, a novel I lent him in 1977. "I finally read it," he smiled. I opened it and a bunch of black-and-white photos fell on the table, photos of each other and friends at parties we don't remember at all.
7 comments:
I like friends who return books ... eventually.
Are they wandering far? Something about this post makes me sad, maybe it's the part about the photos.
They're moving to the suburban hinterland, or is the word wasteland? But it's temporary.
Sorry your friend is moving away, but glad he won't be that far. Loved the way he gave you back the book with the photographs. Made me smile.
That is a beautiful post. At least in my head, it is quite the moment. And I love that song.
How wonderful.
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