Today I drove into the mountains. Nothing new there. Do it plenty. Left a bit later than usual, but arrived where I was meant to be at the time I said I’d be there, so, you know, all good. All fine and all that stuff.

I was meeting up with two friends; one I don’t see much at all, and the other I’ve seen only two or three times in the last… ten years, roughly. It was a good time; we went walking and hung out and had breakfast and all those things, and it’s nice to see where we are now in our lives. The two had been friends for much longer than I’d known them, and I met them whilst we worked at the same place; it’s just nice to know that we’re still kicking on, and we survived.

Anyway, we hung out and at one point said our goodbyes. They were heading to meet up with another of their friends and I was heading home, and so home I headed. I left Katoomba the way I usually do, which is by some backstreets and through Leura. Avoids a bit of traffic.

The way I go also takes me past a place of which I’m familiar with, which is the house that was one of my best friend’s mum’s. Was as she passed away last year.

When I go to the mountains, or most places really, I set a playlist and try to set it with rising and falling moods, and hope that it matches the scenery and time of day and all those things. When I left Katoomba I went back a few tracks, just to see if I could be back on the highway before one track finished.

I’ve been getting into Underworld a fair bit over the past couple of months. I’ve been getting into them quite a bit. I was passing the house, or rather very close to it when Underworld’s “Best Mamgu Ever” came on, and it floored me.

There is a lot of emotion tied into that house, and perhaps its foundations are defined by those emotions and memories. That’s my friend’s story to tell; not mine, but I have my own set of memories and emotions around it too, though vastly different, albeit tinted with understanding of some of my friend’s perspective. But it was an overwhelming moment.

I was wondering then, and I can’t help but wonder now, however, how much of my feeling what I felt as I passed and “Best Mamgu Ever” played, was me trying to feel something through my friend’s experiences and emotions. Was it me trying to claim his memories as my own in that moment, or was it me feeling for my friend’s experiences? I don’t know; I don’t think I will ever be able to say for sure, but I can’t help but wonder. I do know, however, that what I felt was very real, and heavy and intense.

I helped my friend clear out the house a few times last year, because I wanted to help. I wanted him to be able to get back to living his life. In a sense he had to put time on hold to do what he felt he needed to, and maybe it wasn’t the longest time, but it was years in a day for a while. I was just there for some parts of it, and I did what I could.

When someone passes I feel that, whilst they still travel through time, in a way they stay behind. They’ve exited the train at their station, and what we have left are the memories and all that those entail.

I know what my friend went through was pretty heavy, but again, that’s his story to tell. His memories are his to express. The best I can do is try to be there for him when he wants, or needs me to be there.