Sure, there are days when she flashes righteous indignation, wanting (desperately) to reduce some dullard to dust. She strives mightily for that “withering” look.
But her eyes are too pretty.
She’s been hurt, I know, but her eyes sparkle nonetheless. You search for answers, clues, hints and allegations in those jeweled orbs of hers ...finding...only...that...
Her eyes are far too pretty.
You don’t wanna be the man to make her cry, to have her feel the sting of salt, or...blind her.
Her eyes are far, Far, FAR too pretty.
And you certainly don’t wanna be the man who fills her eyes with deep disdain.
(A fugue experienced while driving at night through a winter storm)
“Someone’s gonna die tonight.” The realization felt like a slap in the face. I sensed dread fill the warm interior. I felt the wheels beneath me slipping...ever so imperceptibly...as I, myself, teetered on the brink of mayhem and disaster. The night trembled with treachery.
“Someone’s gonna die tonight.” I was certain. I wonder if the EMT’s in every firehouse felt the same dread? Do they carouse during the idle hours to fend away grim misgivings? Or do they sit quietly...waiting... waiting for the inevitable?
“Someone’s gonna die tonight.” Who will it be? As it stands, I should be the sacrificial lamb. Parent-less, spouse-less and child-less, my passing would leave few ripples of grief. Better to sacrifice a solitary pilgrim than a pillar of the community. There are those among us who are indispensable to many. Death would come at a high price, a price almost too much to bear.
“Someone’s gonna die tonight.”
* * *
Someone did die that night. More than one. The deaths that affected me the most were those of a young wife and mother who skidded off the road into a pond. She dialed 911 to report that the van carrying her and her three children was sinking. By the time the rescuers arrived, the van was completely submerged. One child is in critical condition. The rest are...gone.
The sodium vapor street lights bathe my little community in liquid amber. All is clothed in snow and ice, enveloped in a soft fog. In keeping with the customs of the season, the air I breathe is cold and raw. And yet, all I feel is peace and warmth, as my breath dissolves within the dank mist.
It is winter and all is quiet in the night. The earth serenely sleeps beneath these amber blankets. It is almost with a sense of shock that I discover that I, too, am at peace. Honestly, I almost didn’t recognize the feeling. It caught me by surprise. It has been so long...years, in fact...that I had forgotten how it felt to be at peace. To feel serene.
If there is such a thing as a landscape of the soul, this winter night is that for me. I am most comfortable as a solitary being, wandering through the quiet fog, safe amidst the snow and ice, this dream world bathed in a warm glow on a cold, dark winter night.
While it may not be a universal practice, I’ll venture a guess that many loving couples seem to gravitate to a song they then embrace as “theirs.” No one can predict which tune will resonate within two hearts in the bloom of love. It just happens. How often have we witnessed someone turn to their partner with a look of glee and say: “Oh, Honey, they’re playing our song!” It is most touching when uttered by aged romantics, those who’ve weathered the challenges of a lifetime spent together in the name of love. Blessed are the lovers who, on the wings of a sweet melody, are transported past the hard times, the trials and the tears, misunderstandings and mistakes, failures and frailties, back to the beginning, yet again. Blessed are they whose hearts remain forever young, forever warmed by love’s first blush. We’ve all seen them, haven’t we? At a wedding reception, anniversary celebration, some dance hall or ballroom, we’ve all seen a couple or two who snap to attention when “their” song begins to play. They clamber to their feet, and hold each other close. Never mind that their bodies are no longer limber and svelte, their skin no longer supple and smooth, their dance a might stilted. We pay no heed to all of that, for we see the sparkle in their eyes. We are moved by those who cling to each other, swaying with lidded eyes, floating in their private heaven... lost in love’s eternal grandeur.
We are moved.
* * *
I used to share music with Amazing Woman. Songs of passion, hope and longing. I shared the music that reverberated deep inside me, hoping all the while they would resonate within her, too. Perhaps some did...but not for very long. We had a chance, a window of opportunity, to find “our” song. There were so many candidates... sadly, none survived the test of time.
A few days ago, while in the process of compiling music to share with another, I discovered “our song.” No, neither I nor Amazing Woman chose this tune. It is not the song I would have chosen had I been given a choice. But it is “ours.” Now and forever, this song, as performed by Richard Shindell, shall remain "ours".
MY LOVE WILL FOLLOW YOU by Buddy & Julie Miller
Take your suitcase and take your heart Take the train to the boulevard My love will follow you My love will follow you You can try to lose yourself downtown You can burn all of your bridges down My love will follow you My love will follow you
My love will follow you Down every highway of your soul You can leave me far behind My love will be a shadow Everywhere you go
Close the door, turn in the key Leave me here like a memory My love will follow you My love will follow you Even on the road that takes you down Where the chords of human kindness come unwound My love will follow you My love will follow you
My love will follow you Down every highway of your soul You can leave me far behind My love will be a shadow Everywhere you go
If you should go so far That you cannot get back You may not remember But my love will not lose track
So go ahead baby take that train My love for you will still remain My love will follow you My love will follow you My love will follow you My love will follow you My love will follow you My love will follow you My love will follow you . . .
Given that songs are meant to be heard, not read, I searched high and low for a link that would allow you, Dear Reader, the opportunity to listen to the song that will haunt me forever. You can click this link to Rhapsody to hear it (but you’ll have to install the “Rhapsody player” first, a minor inconvenience).
(By the way, if any of you can recommend a better alternative for linking to full songs from a blog, I’d appreciate it.)
* * *
All the while, the only thing this sojourner ever wanted was to float magnificently into the mystic...
* * *
Postscript:
Jenn remarked that Richard Shindell's song resonated within her as a mother. That's not surprising. True love, whether between a man and a woman, or a parent and a child, never dies...
Here's another song (Dar Williams' "The One Who Knows") I consider to contain "universal" truths:
My Love Will Follow You by Richard Shindell