War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

the old PBI

I am home but it is changed. no longer the old PBI (TOPBI) a short stroll away. no more cognac and chat of a dusk – 6’4” of pure gentleman… gentle, man.

O old PBI I know you are with your beloved Jo, but how I miss you.

today unpacking boxes. boxes packed hastily last summer whilst home. boxes heaved by a young PBI who flew across a continent to help me and my pal pack up the house (bless him, he helped us and he also helped himself to my pal too!!!). and I came across a lovely cashmere sweater XXL. who the heck? how the heck? I thought. where did this come from?

it took awhile but I remembered… last summer I stopped by to visit TOPBI and we sat on his deck overlooking the ocean. it was a chill but lovely evening and he lent me his sweater which I wore then cycled home without giving it back to him. oh dear, I forgot to give it back and now it’s too late.

and I’m wondering how often he wondered where it was all last year, as inevitably his beloved Jo had bought it for him and it was precious.

I haven’t walked by his place. why would I? I don’t want to actually see that the old PBI is no longer there. no, I don’t want to know he’s gone. I’ll hang onto his sweater awhile longer.

and then I’ll let it go.


About This Page

The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled the old PBI. It was posted here on August 27, 2013.

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