Lest we forget 2016

In the dark, I fumbled for the phone alarm, forgetting in which socket I had plugged it to charge.

In the dark, as I made my sleepy way to the kitchen to boil the kettle for a travel mug of tea, I stumbled into Kibbim who was to join his football team at the dawn service.

In the dark, I took Gina Rose downstairs for a wee and I cursed the fine mist on my face and the sodden roads glistening under street lights.

In the dark, I rummaged in the mess downstairs for raincoats and cursed myself for forgetting to buy an umbrella.

In the dark, I tripped and spilled the travel mug of milky tea as I entered the driver’s seat, flooding the gear shaft and centre console.

In the dark, we made our slow and silent way to the cenotaph in the heart of Atherton.

In the dark, people wearing duffel coats and boots and scarves and bent against the almost-winter wind hurried along watery footpaths.

In the dark, I stopped at the pedestrian crossing for Kibbim to alight so as not to miss the four a.m. start with his team.

In the dark, Kibbim’s disc-shaped eyes glowed with sudden horror and he said, “I forgot my shoes.”

In the dark, while I struggled to think in my half-conscious state, he relaxed and said, "Just go home and get my thongs."