From Battersea to Bryanston

Time: BC – Before Caffeine
Small boy aged 9: “Mom! Phone!”
Me: “Unhunh?”
Phone (Chirpy): “Hey there, it’s me!”
Me: “Unhunh?”
Phone: “I think we have a bad line. I’ll call back.”
Me: “Unhunh.”

Once my first shot of caffeine has time to jumpstart my vocal chords and brain cells I actually am quite articulate despite all evidence to the contrary. The upshot of the garbled phone call was that my friend from New Zealand was on these not very sunny shores, and so I took the opportunity to take my first solo drive post-op to pay her a visit.

It was very Michael J Fox Back to the Future this drive back into the past. The last time we met was outside the Battersea Power Station a la Pink Floyd. I had a day old baby and we met in a gray pub on a gray day.

Now almost ten years later we meet in the same apartment complex she lived in when we were at school. It was a bit surreal. I was looking forward to seeing the old homestead complete with taxidermied leopard and a Black Eagle in the living room. Sadly, however, not everything remains the same and we met in the home of a family friend.

Friends are funny things. Some come and some go, and some no matter how long you haven’t seen them remain your friends. There’s that instant connection where the years fall away and your heart fills with recognition. Across the chasm of years and experiences the mother and the adventurer still managed to bridge the gap. I learnt a few things, that age is a great leveller, that we all face challenges that make us stronger, and that we all end up somewhere we need to be.

I have no doubt we both look older than we once were, but I couldn’t see it. She looked ethereally beautiful and I still felt a little gauche, but the sum total of our shared experiences far out way the years we’ve spent apart and time didn’t really seem to matter. I drove home several hours later lighter in heart and spirit with a strong desire to listen to Pink Floyd.