I had not expected to see him, again. After all these years, I would have settled for a postcard or a mention in a dusty scrap of newspaper… Hell, after so many decades of best-friend-neglect, I would have settled for an invite to his funeral.
But there he was, like some ghost emerging from the other side of an improbability wormhole. A dusty tableau designed to shock you into immobility.
It took me a couple if open-mouthed minutes to clock that he was speaking.
“Phil?” I stuttered.
He took in my dark blue suit, the soft leather shoes, the well-worn leather bag containing all I needed for an overnighter in Santiago.
I gazed at his craggy face; sporting an ancient helmet that looked like it lived up there. But then something familiar about the bike drew my eye – a pre-unit BSA that looked like it had been around the world several times…
“Which it has,” he said, softly.
My head began to spin. “I didn’t expect to see you, again,” I managed; looking deep into eyes, full of kindness and empathy for my state… wait a minute. For my state!
“You wouldn’t have been able to see me, before.” He said it gently. “But now you can.”
He pointed to the bike; the bike he’d had as as one of two poor students. Mine had been the Triumph equivalent. “It’s not much for a reunion of this nature, but I thought it would amuse…”
©Stephen Tanham 2021
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.