I remember those Saturday nights we’d walk home together. In the lull of a quiet harbour. Watch a boat go out or watch the one cab we had drive down the south side. Laughing, carrying on with each other, and three sheets to the wind. Sometimes we would talk the ears off each other, other times you were too contrary. But, I would always make you laugh until you were over it.

Our strolls home from a party, a wedding dance, or the club were where our friendship grew the most. How comforting it was to have you as my best friend. You’ll always be my best friend, but I miss you and being alone under a streetlight at night still makes me mad…

…talk to you tomorrow.

A rocking chair and the gap between your stories. I hung in that quiet and on your every last word. Your voice for my heart, your silence for my soul. Then, it was time for tea…