I dropped my daughter off at school this morning, then carried on into the town center with a bag of things for the charity shop. I was greeted by a friendly, elderly volunteer as one by one I emptied the bag’s contents onto the counter.
Two jumpers that my mum bought me at Christmas, under the mistaken apprehension that I was seventy years old. Actually, she bought one for me and one for my brother. Then she said that she realised that my brother wore the latest fashions, so I could have his for my birthday too.
It’s the thought that counts. What was she thinking?
Then a book, the title of which I cannot even remember. Something along the lines of The Genealogist’s Internet Bible. Amen to that.
Lastly, a few old CDs. At this, said elderly volunteer gasped :
“Buddy Holly!” (See Mother-who said I wasn’t fashionable?) “I love Buddy Holly! That’s my era!” (Mother-I take it back.)
Then she did something I’ve been thinking about ever since. She placed her hand on my arm, and exclaimed:
“It’s been so long…so long!”
I should have asked. I smiled and said goodbye. But on the short walk home I played it over and over. What has been so long?
Since she has been a fan? Since she danced? Since he died?
I really should have asked, these kind of things can nag at me all day.
It has been so long.
It’s definitely not a song of his.