The last time I saw him the winds picked up so wildly and almost threatened to blow us off the road entirely in the forest near to where he lives. We were driving down a dirt road in B.F. nowhere, listening to the Hip, presumably high as kites, laughing loud. I made him stop the wagon, get out and walk backwards in the wind so I could take pictures of him. He never questions my demands and he never needs an explanation. Never raises an eyebrow at my impulse photography, or my urge to lie flat on my back on his floors (which I always end up on for some reason), and never ever steals a judgmental glance in my direction when I shriek in Steinbach's KFC. This is why we are friends. The wailing coming from inside the car wailed on as the wind took over. Hair everywhere, voices lost in the air currents. I watched him laughing through my camera's lens and I remember feeling so happy to be there. Eventually we got back in the car, back on the excuse for a road, back into his second story music room with the view that looks into a sea of a million towering birch trees and drew and drank and ate and listened the afternoon away. That was the last time I saw Yosh.
We fought the wind and the wind won. And then. This.
Today I was perusing the vast sea that is the Internet and stumbled upon a picture that looks so akin to Yosh it is uncanny. This is not him, but this is what he will look like when he has babies. I cannot wait to see what type of father this man will become. If luck will have it, I will be nestled in that music room on Saturday. My ticket out of the city. I long for the quiet found circling inside those birch trees.
We will see.
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