i’d made plans to head out of town.
sometimes i would give myself a reason to drive up north, claiming my old friends wanted to catch up or had something for me to collect. i think everyone knew i just wanted time to myself, to get away from the every day. and so i would be up and gone in the early morning, sun brushing over the hills as Kristian Matsson hummed through the speakers of my Ford. it was a drive that could take almost all day if i wanted it to, and i made sure of it. it was time for me to think, and process everything that i couldn’t while tuning out the constant buzz of inner city life, nine to five, never enough sleep or never enough of anything.
seven months earlier, my youngest brother had gotten sick. it wasn’t so bad, he was doing okay, we all said. perhaps I knew exactly what his future held, and I had made my decision of where to place myself in that future.
it was exhausting. i was exhausted.
mid-way through the afternoon, i stopped halfway down a side-road leading to a hill lookout. i parked, and sat on a wooden log to read, losing track of time as i gave myself in to imagination, and a world that wasn’t mine to fix. only when a drop of water fell directly onto the page before my eyes did i realise it was raining. distant rumbling and a glance to the west told me that, as it so often was, a storm was on the way. i packed my things, climbed into the car, and drove.
there is something terribly comforting about driving in steady rain. the windscreen wipers beat in time to a slower song, and the fuzziness of passing car headlights is soft and reassuring. i am isolated, by the waning light and the rain outside. i am safely in my car, driving carefully but consistently.
the rain beats harder and i put on a faster song, flicking the wiper speed up. i glance to my phone, placed on the passenger seat beside me. i’d made plans to head of town.
torrential rain transitions into hail, as i drive through the dark. the road is barely visible before me, as my phone begins to ring. it is my mother. i am not surprised by the call. perhaps I was expecting it. but the response is still profound; crushing and suffocating. i answer on the final ring. my brother died half an hour ago, in St John of God Hospital, Subiaco. he was sixteen.
i think it must have been the absence of wind that woke me. as if it had stopped with a shudder, shaking the car one last time, to leave a vacuum in its place, completely lacking of sound. with my breath smoking before me, i pushed the car door open, boots crunching the frosted ground, like teeth into a frozen icy-pole. i've always hated that feeling, but on that day i heard it, i felt it beneath my feet, and it was nothing to me. i wanted to speak aloud for the first time since i left home yesterday morning, to provide some profound comment on the trivial things that bother us. my mouth opened, a rush of cold air filling my lungs. i shook my head, and walked.
lost in my thoughts, i jolted to realise i had walked quite some distance, and turned to see the familiar outline of my car behind me. i'd been walking uphill, but assumed that something else was accounting for the heaviness of my legs, and the extra effort each step took. i straightened, and looked up, as if to face the open scene before me, to finally confront every thought I had been denying time. the skies had cleared to a pale blue reminder of the storm. i was warm enough under my thick coat and blanket, but I felt the cold of that consistent, heavy sky. perhaps it was just the stark contrast against the white hail stones, relentless in consuming everything in sight. but the scene struck me, and chilled me down to my bones. my eyes closed, and i fell to my knees.
“it’s the thought of you, not knowing where you are now, that troubles me. i know that i will miss you, eventually, but right now… i am only afraid.”
i had found my voice again, teeth chattering as I spoke to no one. i sighed deeply, and rose, walking languidly down to the car. i settled in, Revelation Blues playing through the stereo as i took off. i circled around, and drove south.
thoughtfully written music by a group of genuinely amazing humans - Purity have a unique ability to tell a story that's touching and personal while still smashing out riffs and hooks Treehouses
The former frontman of the Pains of Being Pure at Heart lets loose with a passionate, Dylan-esque record full of razor-sharp lyricism. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 2, 2021
