By Holly Thomas
It’s the small stuff that makes a life
So you have to capture them. You have to grab them and appreciate them because there will come a time when those seemingly insignificant moments will be your favourite memories. And you didn’t even know how beautiful they were when they were happening. Maybe they wouldn’t have been so beautiful if you had known. The parties with the biggest build up are always the most disappointing.
It’s the small stuff that makes a life.
When I was five my dad grabbed my tiny palm on the school run. We were walking the same steps we’d walked a thousand times before but this time we were in the shade. The end of summer was beginning. The light from the sun reached the opposite side of the road. He looked down at me and said:
“Let’s take a walk on the sunny side of the street”. And I have never felt so warm.
I once went into a bar I presumed would be terrible with some people I love very much. We got upstairs and there was a Peruvian Jack Black imitator, singing The Killers. If you can get your head round that image, you’ll understand why it has stayed with me.
My parents used to pick me up at the end of each year at University. I’d be in the back, crushed amongst all of my belongings. They would loudly play ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’ by John Denver. I would hope for traffic.
When I was 18 I travelled around Italy on my own. I met a man who had a Vespa and being on the back of it felt like I was living out a scene from a film. He drove me to a vineyard and I was too young to realise what a cliche that was.
These moments feel small but often they are big. Like when it’s the last SCAB you will ever write. A passing out ritual from a cult you love to hate to belong to. I will miss breathing this place.