Ten years ago today, Lydia and I moved to Sweden. Well, I suppose it was technically the 17th that we moved, but by the time we’d traveled nearly twenty-four hours across ten time zones, the calendar had turned over to the 18th, so this is the day that counts. Ten years. Huh.
— * * * * * —
The Big 1-0
January 18, 2011
I can’t believe it’s been ten years since I last saw you. I can remember the conversation you and I had in the bar the night before you left (nevermind, lol). I remember what we drank (pints of Redhook and a couple of Mudslides) and the shirt the bartender was wearing (backless, red, satin). I can remember what you were wearing the next day (faded jeans and a blue shirt). I can remember arguing with Lydia about how she really, really should let Auntie Debi brush her hair. (She said no. She won, lol.) I know John was there, but I honestly don’t remember anything about him. Yaaa! Ah well, you were always SOOO much more important than he was. Ten-fucking-years. Why have I not been to see you? And I did make it 3/4 of the way one time. I can’t believe I didn’t go that last little bit… I must go now, I am utterly depressed. I’ll be happy for you tomorrow, when I’m done feeling sorry for myself. 🙂
I can’t believe it’s been ten years, either. Remind me never to get on your bad side, with that memory of yours … you could be seriously dangerous! 😀
Wow, ten years!