Silly little details
It came as a shock when I met with two friends and our children at the soft play last weekend. I haven’t physically been near him for a year.
I couldn’t believe it when she told me her youngest is now one. These two friends are our mutual friends and we had been meaning to meet up for months. With all the upheaval of moving about the meet up kept getting put off. I really hadn’t realised that a year had gone by.
I can’t understand how even though a year has gone by how I can still feel like a part of me is missing. I can picture him, his hands so familiar, his eyes, the way he would sit, the way he walked.
I thought I saw him the other day in the car park outside a shop. I saw he was wearing white trainers and thought no, its not him, he has black trainers. Then I remembered I’d not seen him for a year, he might have white trainers. Then I had a go at myself, why the hell do I even care what trainers he has now.
I could still describe his trainers, the exact shape of them, the way he would put them on to go out. Complaining all the way down the road about the air bubbles having popped in them and getting wound up because they were squeaking. I can still picture them so clearly in my mind as he took them off when we got back in to the house and how he would leave them lying near the door.
Why so much detail? Most of our time together I felt like i was just going through the motions, doing what I had to do to survive each day, though my memory has held on to all these silly details.