Karrington, Karry, there she was, coming over the rise. Home. Her roads, her buildings, brought it all back after all these years.

The flame trees blinded me. It had been six hours of straight driving and I was getting weary. I wound down the car window to let that cool country air into my lungs and brought myself into the moment. Just savourin’ familiar sights.

There’s nothing else could set fire to this town.

Kids drove past in a hurry to get to the pub, and I couldn’t blame them. Saturday afternoon and on the prowl in Karry. Didn’t I know it.

Memories flooded back. Those booze filled nights spent out roughing up the town. What a life. The best life. We shared some history, this town and I.

But I couldn’t stop that long forgotten feeling of her. I pushed the thought away.

I pulled up to the motel and couldn’t shake the feeling that even though I was home I felt like an outsider.

I booked the room and left my bags before heading out on the town.

I felt nervous about seeing the boys. Had no good reason for it, of course, just that feeling you get when you see people you haven’t seen in a while. Do I have anything in common with them anymore?

You know that pit in your stomach when you’re worried there’s going to be an awkward silence because you have nothing new to talk about?

Nothing changes around here. There’s no pace. It’s all a crawl, compared to the city, at least. I could feel the city stress lifting from my shoulders with every step, only to be replaced with the churning in my stomach of the meetup.

By now, the clouds looked like snowcapped mountains against the sunburnt sky, and now there was a breeze swirling the leathery leaves around the streets.

Amber lights and raucous laughter spilled out of the local watering holes, bringing a smile to my dry lips. Can’t wait for that ice cold schooner of beer to drench them. That nectar – a kiss from God.

The Townie was in sight, one of Karry’s two hotels. I saw Lazza put out his durry on the sidewalk, sparks smothered by the stomp of his boot.

He waved me down with that toothless grin.

Would he say it? Would he?

‘You’re doin’ well,’ Lazza said, going for a big hug. We embraced and smacked each other on the back. 

Haha, number one. He never failed to say it.

We walked into the pub and the familiar scent of beer and cigarettes brought flashbacks to the hundreds of nights we spent here. Everything within its place.

In the back, near the pianola stand, a young girl held hands with a boy in greasy clothes, black smudges streaked his face. He was fresh from the Holden factory. They only had eyes for each other, lucky bugs. Wonder if that boy’ll stick around or go like me.

I looked over and saw the sign above the bar: Happy Hour. Oh ho, number two. It was getting better by the minute.

Lazza pointed to a table in the corner. All the familiar faces were there. Johnny, Pepsi, and Vicks.

‘You boys look just the same,’ I called out.

We said our hellos, and before we knew it, the drinks were flowing, and the barbs were throwing. Which one of us could tell the biggest lies?

Johnny mentioned, ‘Yeah, I’m the head of the business now.’

We all howled with laughter.

‘Yee, and I won the lotto las’ night. Gettin’ me, a Furrari delivered tomorra,’ Lazza barked.

We howled louder. 

We drank and talked late into the night playing ‘Do you remember so and so?’.

Eventually, the pub closed, and we were all shuffled out. Nearly all the lights were off now as we staggered and squawked down the dark boulevard.

Pepsi made a runner down the street, pretending he had a rugby ball in his arms about to score a try, ‘Nothin’ stopped us on the field!’

He hit a pole and fell back onto the ground. The rest of us cracked up. Luckily, he got back up again.

Vicks put his hairy arm around my shoulders and whispered, ‘How you holdin’ up? I remember she-’

‘Don’t wanna talk about her, mate,’ I said.

Vicks took his arms off me and gave me a sorry look, but let me be. Number three – never say her name.

I tried to block out the thought of her. Takes more than just a memory to make me cry.

The boys walked me to the motel, and we said our goodbyes. I crawled into my crisp motel bed and untucked all the sheets with a sigh.

All my worries had washed away. How could I forget? These were my kin.

Ahh, who needs that sentimental bullshit, anyway?

This was home. 

Just makes it harder to believe that she won’t be around.