Sunday, 16 January 2011

Three Meetings

The first, when I was a teen, at a seaside resort. The theatre was packed full of excitable kids as you made your appearance on stage. The cheers, the jeers, the laughter, watching you make a fool of yourself, as you appeared to love every moment. A classic children's story brought to life on the colourful stage to an appreciative, childish audience.

The second, as an adult, on the silver screen. A rare visit to the cinema with my wife. A hushed respect from a more mature audience as you displayed your talents and masterfully portrayed the plot the scriptwriters had presented to you. Their story, but you made it yours.

The third, as a paramedic, in the lounge of your apartment. You lie on the floor, silent, motionless. As you're unable to tell a story of any sort, emptied cans of beer, spent syringes and bloodied razor blades tell the tale for you.

As we leave the hospital, I wonder if there'll be a fourth. 

1 comment:

Nicki said...

That is so sad. I will pray for the opportunity for a fourth but in a better setting, much like the first 2!