Having breakfasted, I roused my son Corey from his slumber with a quick text, and told him to meet us in town around lunchtime. I figured even a 15 year old could summon enough energy by then to get up and catch a bus!
Arrangements made, Miki and I headed into Wakefield to do a bit of second hand book searching. It was strange, Miki, my present and future, here in Wakefield, a symbol of my past, it was like two worlds colliding. We had fun, though, finding a number of books for her. (She was getting a bit narked that our Boomobile library was favouring me 90%)
A text on my phone informed me Corey was nearby, he came down Cathedral walk, now standing over 6 feet tall, quite astonishing. It was wonderful to see him. We spent the afternoon together out at Pugney’s Water Park, Miki painting, and Corey and I chatting easily. Both Miki and I were impressed and amazed at his emotional maturity, his self-awareness. He has, Miki says, a very clear mind. He’s performed and improved well at school. He played me his band, Jilambis, new demo. His drumming is becoming very accomplished.
Our relationship could have been fraught with difficulties, what with my divorce, then his move to Spain and back, then MY permanent move to Spain, but through all this, and despite the fact that we don’t see each other enough, he is laid back and takes life as he finds it. He seems well balanced, and the pride I feel for him is so strong I can almost touch it. I don’t know if sons ever realise it, but to make their Fathers proud is the most precious gift they can give. I’m not sure I managed it with my Dad, but Corey has most definitely done it for me. I think he’s heading up the right path. That night, we headed up the A1,
the road I had travelled incessantly in the 80’s, gigging every single weekend, mostly in the North-East of England. Pulling into the services near Dishforth, we chanced our arm at an overnight stay in the Little Chef car park, and, I have to say, although they charge you ten quid for a bowl of soup, we enjoyed an unencumbered, on the house stay, even topping our water supplies with the sweetest water you can imagine, incongruously supplied from a grotty tap on the side of the Petrol Station. Tomorrow, Scotland beckons….
Text by Kev Moore
Drawing & Photos by Miki
Both on Planet Goodaboom
No comments:
Post a Comment