Bad News...

The winds were blowing at a rate not seen in over fifty years, or so the weatherman said. Neither of us had bothered to check the forecast that morning, both wearing flimsy springtime jackets which were of no protection, but it didn’t matter anyway – loss masks the senses, and allows for a type of self annihilation. The spray off the Bosphorus blowing across the tea garden shooting directly for us was the least of our worries. Our bones soaked up the damp cold. Couples and old men ran to the warmth of their cars, while we sat paralysed by the news we had received just hours earlier, the wincing cold was nothing compared to how we both felt. The tea helped somewhat towards us both not getting pneumonia. Sitting in silence, staring at the steam evaporating from the small bevelled tea glass, we couldn’t even speak, for speaking would drown the reality that our best friend was not coming back, ever. Locked in a moment not wanting to move forward we both sat there remembering the times that had gone before. The silence was deafening. A balmy summer day, was the last day we had all been together, laughing about how ridiculous life is. Life had moved on, a kind of manufactured reality, a new environment had surrounded all of us, and everything was fine, but we knew somehow that this day would come, the day when we would see each otehr again to address the fears of what had gone before. We knew why, but had managed to store it in the deepest parts of our consciousness. The months rolled by, until one morning, one spring morning we had received the news that our friend would not return from his last asisgnment. There it was, the final arrival of bad news, and all we could do was sit there for hours, just sipping hot tea, being pelted by the salty spray from the Bosphorus, hoping it would wake us up, from the numbness of the loss we both felt.

Barking Sparrows 2006