They sit facing each other
She in her small blue arm-chair
he in his larger
firm not puffy one
but a better fit for his robust frame
The slow combustion firebox glows with licking slow-dancing flames
A little mesmerized they stare into it
This is new for them
They haven’t seen each other for decades
but now they have the rest of their lives
for their stories
of travels
happy times
unbearable hurts (these with tears)
She kneels and wraps her arms around him
to see him through the memories
The three thousand song playlist picks up Tony Joe White
You shared your love for his voice with me in the seventies
he tells her
Let’s listen to ‘Home Made Ice Cream’
She finds it
Did I tell you I met him
Sat next to him on a plane
Chatted on and off for hours
about music
She imagines his experience
while Tony Joe’s silky mellow voice takes them back
to the halcyon hippy days of their early friendship
They stare into the fire
The little Bluetooth speaker’s lights blink and change
in their pretty coloured rhythm
The wine has relaxed them
They are too far apart for hands to touch
so she reaches down
cradles his foot in her hands
then onto her lap
Are you ticklish she asks
He smiles
Don’t think so
Did I ever tell you about Tippo Powder
Massaging his toes she shakes her head
Police black tracker
friend of mine
in the fifties
Worked for the Melbourne Police Force
Rode past our house every afternoon on his horse
I’d wait for him and he’d stop for a chat
Sit on the garden wall with me
I couldn’t get enough of his stories
Mum always brought him out a cup of tea
Gave me a boomerang once
Made it himself
She talks of her time with aborigines
Their mutual respect for the ancient culture
draws them close
and closer still each mutual love discovered
Tony Joe’s lyrics are to be listened to
not just background noise
‘I’ve been laying low
Living in the shadows
Spending time alone
Conversations with the wall
Hanging on
Just trying to matter
Trying to make some sense of it all
I’ve been here before
I’m familiar with the pain
But I aint running no more
There’s one thing changed
Aint going down this time
I hit the motherload
Enough blues for a lifetime
Now I’m digging deep inside
Trying to find my way back again
Deep in the night
I miss a woman’s touch
The fire burns strong
And I’m drawn to the flame
No-one left to blame
I’m faced with the truth
And it’s all too plain when there’s nothing left to lose
Aint going down this time.’ –
Tony Joe White
They have gone back into their memories
Another song brings them back
to talk of destiny
Was fate just waiting for their time to be right
for the greater part of their lives to be done
for a road together to be cleared and paved
They love this conversation
She gives him back his foot
Puts another log on the fire
He pours another wine
As usual I didn’t know what I was going to write till I sat here at my computer. I feel the blog is done.
I will tell you about what’s been happening around me in my next blog – possibly sooner than the end of next month. I’ll let you know.
Take care.
Live and love.
Warmly,
Sue
Footnote – Tippo Powder was so renowned that artist William Bustard entered a portrait of him into the Archibald Prize in 1943.
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