Keep The Faith:

Keep The Faith:

She would float between rooms while cleaning. Almost like she was on blades, gliding; tight curls bouncing, barely keeping pace behind her. Her hair whipped at every sharp turn she took. Bon Jovi blasted out of my Dad’s raga system, a long-lost ancient superior technology that played ‘Slippery When Wet’ to the neighbours nausea. They probably got it from both sides, those years; ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six, belonged to Bon Jovi. I’d bounce on the grey suede sofa’s to the walking bass of ‘Keep The Faith’, through mist clouds of furniture polish. To this day the two are synonymous, I can’t hear the song without recalling the smell, or vice-versa.

I was quick on her tail, from the living room to bedroom to kitchen, and to my room; where she’d clean, and I’d bounce on a race-car bed with turned-up jeans and a flannel shirt. She sang into the polish can and twirled around to the backdrop of motorcycle wallpaper. I cherished those days. It was all Saturday morning cartoons, sardines for breakfast, on toast of course, and milkshakes from the butcher man down Hamstel road. His shop was a short walk away, back when two story houses towered, dogs were horse sized, and buses were star ships to anywhere.

On sunny afternoons I’d hear my Dad’s bike roar down the road, usually with one or two in tow. He had his own scent, a mix of grease, petrol, and leather. He smelt like a man, he walked and spoke like one, and would pick me up with calloused hands. They were sharp, rugged, and tough, I thought they were bulletproof with my naive mind. I used to greet him like a man, chin up, shoulders straight, stern back, and ready for work, all in an idolised imitation of him. We never knew what he’d say when he returned home, he’d often tell us to pack so we could explore all weekend. Sometimes we’d all just glide from room to room, bounce to Bon Jovi and sing into any old can we could.

I’m much older now than I was then, seen a couple of hard days that put a little grey in my hair. When I look at those two, I’m still in awe, they were young rockstars navigating life together, learning, failing, succeeding, and striving to build something, when times got tough, they leant on the gospel of rock and swore to ‘Keep The Faith.’ When my chips are down now, I lean on the memories, I trust my calloused hands to do the work and I seek retribution for the hard days.

Through the years I learned some things, I learned on the driveway that dirty hands equalled clean money, by day's end, I smelt of my own grease and petrol. I learned some things in the kitchen too, where cooking and talking were paramount. I learned to respect women; I was urged to find a good one. The veg steamed, the chicken roasted, and the warm air met the cold on the window, the condensation clouded us from the outside world. It was just my Mum and I, music, and real conversation.

I took the scenic route, there were many girls over the years, some didn’t like Bon Jovi much, some hated dirty hands, grease, and petrol; some of the homes I lived in were silent. Some didn’t like spontaneous adventure, and some weren’t willing to fail beside me, they wanted instant winners, and some cracked the window in the kitchen on winter nights to let the steam out, and the world in.

True to my word, I met a girl, a good one. I was a decade older than my parents when they had me, but love nevercounts years. I put a rock on her left hand and did the things my Mother told me in the kitchen. My hands are rarely clean, but she tracks her fingertips across the callouses that I’ve earned throughout the years. She sings into cans, glides between rooms and I can’t help but hum something from ninety-six. When the cold air meets the warm on the window, we leave it be, and let it steam the world away. We talk, dream, dance, fail, learn, and strive to build something that’ll honour what two young kids built from scratch. Like the place with the grey suede sofas, our house is truly home. When things are tough, we lean on the gospel of the two young dreamers and swear to ‘Keep The Faith.’