We are all little children walking around in the bodies of adults.
When I moved 10,000 kilometers away from home, the last thing I expected was to be washing dishes and polishing cutlery with someone who had almost the exact same music playlist as my favourite one, which we listened to, as we worked side-by-side. After finding many other things that Asher has in common with my friend (whose playlist it is), my mind was completely blown.
Generously sharing his experiences at work, meeting Asher was, in many ways, like coming home. I didn’t feel alone. If I could randomly run into and make friends with someone like my friend back home, anything was possible.
The “hot-knife-incident” allowed me to process emotions that I had been bottling up for months. With his frantic energy, he taught me how to make better beds, how to polish cutlery better, how to clean the dishwasher AND the bum-washer. The bottom of the dishes be damned.
And it so happened that the last trip Asher was on, before leaving for another gig, had me on too. A massive coinkidink. There’s no way I was going to let him leave without standing for a portrait for me. We had 10 minutes at Sydney train station. A skipped lunch, running through the rush of commuters, giggling like school-children, one tree trunk and a half-naked Asher later, we hugged and bade goodbye.
Never the twain shall meet, and yet.
