Kylie Lang: The gift of responsibility and why it won’t let this old flame reignite

As the summers we have left diminish, there’s no time to waste, writes Kylie Lang, and if I could, I’d use mine to take off overseas for a very long time, and shoot across to Canada to see an old flame.

The NYE Fireworks pictured from the Emporium Hotel for New YearÕs Eve, Brisbane 31st December 2024. (Photo: J&A Photography)

A new year brings new beginnings – or so we tell ourselves.

Time to change the things we can, and do better at accepting the things we can’t.

You know how it goes.

We make resolutions we struggle to keep. To be healthier, wealthier, wiser, to let go of old hurts and give more freely from a somewhat battered heart.

This will be the year we do … (insert your own ending).

I find myself tempered by responsibility.

Being there for my elderly parents as well as caring for a geriatric dog whose dependence on me multiplies daily is not something I can, or wish to, shake.

My son, who’s moved home not because he missed me but because it’s cheap, is now the family member who needs me the least (unsure how long this will last, so remaining vigilant).

At Christmas drinks at a friends’ place last week, those of us on the wrong side of 50 spoke about our plans for the future – but unlike when we were in our 20s or 30s, those plans don’t stretch on forever.

“Twenty summers,” said my friend, who has a few years on me.

In 20 summers, he will be in his 80s, which is not to say life comes to a crashing halt but nature’s course slows us down.

So what to do with 20, or maybe 30, summers?

When I think how quickly the summers I’ve had have flown, I know there’s no time to waste.

But here’s the rub – the older we become, the deeper our roots.

Without this thing called responsibility, and a job I would dearly miss, I would take off overseas. For a very long time.

I’d start in Italy, my spiritual home where I have two dear girlfriends I met backpacking in Germany as a 21-year-old.

We are as “simpatico” as you can get. We’ve been there for each other through divorces, dodgy boyfriends and everything in between. There are my people. And they make the best pasta on the planet.

Then I’d shoot across to Canada to see an old flame.

Actually, to call him an old flame is a bit of a stretch because ours was a spark that circumstance all but extinguished.

He’s a pilot, a senior captain these days, and we met in a grotty pub in Sydney, across from News Corp headquarters in Holt Street, Surry Hills.

God knows what he was doing there, straight backed and tall in his crisp white Air Canada uniform, but we clicked.

A truer gentleman you wouldn’t find.

There will be no falling head over heels, but old flames still burn. Picture: iStock

But being in our 20s, we had careers to forge, and distance became our enemy.

We did meet up again some years later, in his hometown, but by that stage we both had partners, and our friendship respected that.

He and I go through long periods of no contact. Not for any reason other than getting on with life.

A few weeks ago I emailed to say hi. He responded overnight, the same cheerful, kind soul he has always been.

But when I didn’t reply – it slipped my mind, with Christmas and all – he chased me up, on New Year’s Eve.

After the perfunctory greetings, he got straight to it: “A brief contact and then you have become silent.

“I hope I haven’t lost you.

“Funny how time and distance can become such a barrier, yet great memories, of which I have many with you, will last forever.

“Hoping we can reconnect.”

Now before you go thinking I’m going to fall head over heels and leave Brisbane for good, let me tell you that won’t happen.

Nor would he move here.

Although we’re both single, we have made our lives, and I’m content with mine.

Responsibility, after all, is a blessing.

It is the companion of enduring love.

Regardless of the number of summers any of us have left, I think it is important to take stock of where we are right now, to appreciate all we have, and to be grateful we’re still here.

I said earlier I was on the wrong side of 50. I’m changing that to the right side.

Happy New Year to you all.

Kylie Lang is Associate Editor of The Courier-Mail

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