One More For The Road.

The message flashes up on my phone.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year! A year since our last night together.”

A year since I cuddled you.

A year since we had a brew cuddled up on the sofa in our pyjamas.

A year since heart-to-hearts.

A year since curdled shots of Baby Guiness dripped down our chins and in to a soupy hot tub.

A year since I cooked you a steak and we danced around the kitchen table singing at the top of our voices like wild banshees.

A year since we laughed so hard someone almost wet themselves.

A year since we put the world to rights.

A year since I looked at you in the flesh and directly in to your eyes.

“We didn’t know it would be the last time. Would you have done anything different?”

I would have held on to that face and squished your cheeks together and told you with my red wine stained lips that you are one of the most wonderful people in my life and I am lucky to be in this space with you. Lucky to breathe the same air as you. Lucky to wipe your tears and sicky mouth and hold your hair back. Lucky to hold your hand and call you my friend.

I would’ve asked you to stay up.

Just have one more glass of wine with me. One more for the road.

I promise the next one is definitely the last one.

I would have stayed another night.

I would’ve asked you to do cartwheels with me in our pants across the lawn.

I would’ve asked you to lay down in the grass and watch the stars fade in to sunrise. I would have asked you to tell me all your secrets.

I would have asked you to hold my hand until one of us is the first to fall asleep.

I would’ve asked to play you just one more song because I know you’ll really love this one.

I would have stared at your face for longer and counted your eyelashes.

I would have asked you to give me something that I could keep to remind me of you so when I feel dizzy with missing you I have something to hold on to.

I would’ve told you that you’re strong and you will survive whatever comes your way between now and then. That you’re made of strong stuff and you can hold the whole world in the palm of your hands.

I would have told you that you will still smile when you feel like crying and tell everyone else that’s it’s going to be O.K. Even when you’re not sure that it is.

I would have told you so many things and squeezed every single last drop from that moment.

Except I don’t say that. I just type:

“I would’ve fed you a bread roll and a glass of water at 9pm so you didn’t have to go to bed so early.”