Phantom regulars

It's funny. The passage of time has done so little to dim the expectation I feel as I sip my pint at this large wooden table, listening to the music, the soundtrack to our adventures. Is it strange that I still look for you? That it is still second nature to watch the door every Tuesday evening - waiting for you to arrive? I know you're not coming. I know you're thousands of miles away on your island. I know this. But it does not stop me from turning and looking expectantly towards the door. It does not stop me from hearing the heartfelt harmonies sung in deep voices across the room. It does not stop me from wishing to hear, one more time, that cheesy cover or some Johnny Cash.

I curse other thin young men in touques when they are not those I crave, no, EXPECT to see. Curse them for making my heart skip a beat when I catch glimpses of them from the corner of my eye.

Because to me you're still as much a part of this place now, as you were then. When I think of the regulars, you're still all here. Like the big wooden chairs and the Guinness posters. And so I watch the door, and hum the harmonies, and await your return.

PS - Dec 1st is "Best of" night... that'd be a good time to come back...dontcha think?