The only sound we could hear was the song of a Nightjar nearby: the long, almost robotic sound reminded me of my father, who fostered within me a love of our feathered friends. We’d often take a walk in the wide expanse of Sefton Park together after our evening meal, when I was a boy, and we’d listen out for the sounds of the night birds. It seemed unfair to me that we were preparing to soon silence such a soothing sound with gunfire.
Prince of the City – Nine Lives
Before we left I hugged him again.
“Another one from Elsie?” he whispered in my ear.
“No way. That one was on me Dad.”
“You do me a favour Vic and remember me the way I am today, and don’t come back here son. There’s less of the real me every day.”
My eyes filled with tears and I held him longer than I intended to.
“I miss not having you to talk to.”
“I know, I miss me too.”
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Sometimes legends make reality, and become more useful than the facts.