I was 25, working my first ‘professional kitchen’, when you came into my life. This kitchen was everything I’d geared towards; it was hard work, but I loved my family there. Why I left with you then, well, from inside my core I had to. The cold apps cook came to me and introduced us, only a couple weeks before I finally left.
There were some opinions:
‘Wait longer – give yourself more time to develop here.’
‘Montreal isn’t going anywhere, what’s the rush?’
When you came into my life I knew it was the right time. I had everything I needed and look at us now. Eight years have passed with too many places to count. Head on your gut, you were my pillow. You kept my affairs as safe as you could; you’ve held strong, longer than I could have asked.
I remember like yesterday it was both of us covered in red powder from the ‘Great Sandy’ in Australia. In Thailand you became torn on me; I tried my best, but some things are irreparable. How many floor mats have we gone through, lay under the stars? We must have carried a hundred bugs to a dozen bunk beds; not to mention, at Olly’s place in Perth, coming back from India.
End of August in our first year found us outside Anchorage, Alaska – in Palmer – stuck on the free-way for hours with rain coming down; my Camo jacket, saturated, and the sign for ‘Tok’ wilted, falling to the ground like wet bread before that man picked us up and paid for our hotel.
Or lost in that canyon, in Jordan, where I carried you over my shoulders through water so dark and mysterious until it was too deep to continue, walking back 25 km to where we’d begun -with water you could steep tea in and not a scrap of food between us.
The worst of all, in Melbourne, I left you behind at a friends; who called me, to tell me I had to pick you up, immediately. I came late – around 2AM – to find my shit in bags, on her porch – only you had gone. It was weeks before India and my right arm; my flesh and blood had gone. I was furious, kicking everything in sight.
Red eyes filled with rage for this unreasonable scenario and two days later I receive a call from the Police telling me they’ve found you, in an alley in Fitzroy. Oh the relief I felt, it nearly brought me to tears with excitement.
It has been a long road and you’ve carried a very heavy load; people said we didn’t really fit right and we still don’t. I know the time is coming and like most situations in my life, we will have to part, still you are a part of me; a part of my fabric; a part of my skin; you are my only friend.
Goodbye, My Love. I was 25, working my first ‘professional kitchen’, when you came into my life. This kitchen was everything I'd geared towards; it was hard work, but I loved my family there.
