No Woman, No Cry
The solitude found from moving across the planet by myself is one that I treat much like a roller coaster ride. The highs – experiencing the city on my terms, doing what I want when I want. The lows – finding myself sitting on the couch on a Saturday night watching marathons of Law & Order, with only Ben & Jerry to keep me company.
What do I miss the most? I’m afraid the cliche is right on. My friends and family. But it’s not in a selfish way. I miss all the normal stuff, like always having someone to have a beer with any night of the week, my mum’s special roast beef made on request, spontaneous bottles of wine and packets of chips after work during the week, Ryan Adams and cooking when it rains… (Wow, that’s all about food and booze!) Umm… walking around Princes Park and watching the leaves change colour, driving to work and talking my mate’s ear off all the way.
The hardest part is not being there for them when shit goes down. I’m a fixer, and I can’t fix shit from here. Well, I can’t fix shit from there, but at least I can hold hands, wipe tears, make cups of tea… From here, all I have are Skype dates, written words and Whatsapp audio messages.
But here’s the rub: all I can do – wherever I am in the world – is just be. Distance is a bitch, but it’s just distance. I’m holding your hand, no matter how far I need to stretch my arm.
Good friends we have, oh, good friends we’ve lost
Along the way
In this great future,
You can’t forget your past
So dry your tears, I say
