Ali
The short walk in Brue between my house and Ali’s is one I’ve done more often than any other in my life. Among my earliest memories is my father, Michael, walking us both in the road to take Ali home after he’d spent the day with us. It was a clear night and for the duration of the walk Ali looked up at the sky and named all the different constellations he recognised. On our walk back my father, the schoolteacher, remarked on what an unusually bright and inquisitive young boy Ali was. Air an t-slìghe gu 20 Brù | Approaching 20 Brue For our constellation of friends growing up on the West Side of Lewis the Maciver home was the central point in our childhoods. Ali’s late mother Ina often talked about the number of children in our generation - 40 of us in Brue alone. This Siarach baby boom was the cradle for lasting friendships whose closeness and number can often surprise friends I’ve made in adulthood, accustomed to losing touch with childhood companions across the course of their live