“Saturday I’m running wild… and all the lights are changing red to green…”

I distinctly remember his warm voice in my head… I remember clear crystal, my Aussie friend, Megan, whom I was daydreaming with about David Gray and about one wild night when we would finally see him in person on the big stage, singing the songs which were once the soundtrack of our London-time memories… the constant dreams, which were often distracted by not-so-friendly customers asking for a million size requests or were wondering if we had the red sequined skirt in stock.

Oh, how I miss those afternoons… how I miss my chilled friend, Meg, whom regrettably I lost touch with… I left the country with David Gray’s CD in my handbag, in case my luggage got lost or stolen… I immigrated to the land of nature with small desires but big hopes… Meg left to continue the rest of her life in her homeland, at least for a while… contrary to our wishes, we never met Mr. Gray.

On Saturday night, after almost twelve years since my love affair with the guy, whose voice still make me feel nostalgic, I drove to Hamilton with someone who appreciates his music as much as myself, to see him live on stage… and let me tell you this much: he was no different than years ago, but this time he was no longer a dream alone, but one which came true.

I sang, screamed, and stared at him, refreshing the memories in my heart and remembering the good old times… and suddenly I felt strange and started to miss those days, Megan and all the silly talks, when we were sailing away and were running wild on Saturday nights.

S