42 you said?


Dear Tim,

I’ve told you before.  The thing with death is,  I have no new pictures of you.  So I had to improvise a little.

As I have been preparing for my Grahamstown festival trip next month,  I could not help but think of you.  Do you remember?

You were in school uniform. Matric blazer. I was sitting on the steps of the church on the square in Grahamstown. I went to a private school so no uniform.  I remember I was wearing a very stretched out purple jersey and brown leather shoes I had bought at the festival.

(Remains the most expensive shoes I’ve ever owned. Haha! I would much rather buy books. I had no idea at the time how much purple was still to follow.)

The sun was setting.

You came and sat next to me. I had never seen you before. You sat,  silently.  I remember being intrigued. You walked up,  asked if you could join me and sat down. No words. Minutes passed. I turned my face and looked at you. Eventually you turned to me and said, “It is not everyone you can have a comfortable silence with.” I smiled.

We chatted for a bit about where we were from and what we have seen at the festival. I don’t know how long we spoke for but it was suddenly dark when your school chaperone called you. My friends came to tell me it’s time to meet for supper almost at the same moment.

We did not exchange any contact details. As you got up you said that if the universe wants we will meet again. I laughed with a “good luck with that” kinda feeling. You smiled.

We had gotten up and as you walked away,  you turned and said  “Do you know what the meaning of life is?” I probably looked as silly as I felt and said “No”.

You smiled and said “42”.

I had no idea what you were on about, which I confessed when we did meet up again, as the universe allowed, years later.

It is our 42nd birthday this coming week.  Saturday. I will be 42 years old. You will forever be, 25.

Btw, I think the universe has a sense of occasion. My accommodation reservation arrived via email.  Room 42.

I will look for you, on the steps, at the church on the square.

Stop the clocks,

PS.  Thank’s again for the nickname.  Wenchy stuck.  🙂

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