Gail Hennessy

For Julia

11pm - we sat together in the car. It was her driveway and I had brought her home. We were volunteers at the hospital canteen. Nobody wanted the Saturday night roster, but we were wives and mothers with 11 children between us. We made cappuccinos. We weren't baristas. Nobody abused us for our offerings. Nobody said they were too cold or had too much froth.

By day we worked together in the university library. The windscreen in that Australian inland city was sprinkled with stars. She pointed to Orion, to Betelgeuse - my friend, with a PhD in Physics from the other side of the world.

the inverted firmament
light years distant
home