Ahh, full moons, I’ve come to realize that they are when the moods are deeper, the lyrics hit harder, and the tears are way closer to the surface. For me, this is a great thing, ultimately.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved listening to music and daydreaming, tiny little stories to a beautiful soundtrack. Usually about love, sometimes about a feat, every so often about an act of defiance. Usually about love.
As a kid, I would record songs off the radio onto a tape, endlessly trying to get the start and stop timing correct and mesh them all together. Then I’d play the tape while falling asleep at night, dreaming my little dreams and trying to sort out events that happened and those I wished would. Eventually, I would tire of the tape, the songs would have done what they needed to, all the stories would have been played out, and I’d set to making a new one.
Twenty-five years later, I still do it. Playlist after playlist, bringing moods to life. Sneaking away to the bath, or a drive or a walk, to dance around in my mind a little and see what the melodies and lyrics can reveal. Not escape, not at all, amplification, at least. I run faster with music. I glow brighter with music. I don’t think I could write at all if it weren’t for music. I often feel like its student.
Most of the songs we love are ones that we can picture singing to someone else, I think. Yelling, whispering, pleading. Many other songs, of course, are ones we would love to be sung to us. Many lovers have a song. Is that not just the most wonderful thing?
One of my husband’s favourites is:
The other morning when I was heading off on a grey day to run in the damp, on a trail I wasn’t too thrilled about, I played this song. I mused about if I had to pick one, I’d pick this one as ours. And indeed, the tears streamed down my face.
It was a great thing.
Because this one I hear being sung to me. By the man whose heart is the most generous I’ve ever known. I am a strong, opinionated, ambitious woman, but the thought of being fixed is still enchanting to me most moments of the day. I don’t hear this song being sung to someone who is broken weak but to a person who is perhaps broken not yet knowing. I hear it being sung by one who sees what the other does not or who sees what the other has forgotten. Who sees that, with a little mending and a little tending, that the other is even more.
Of course, there were and are things that needed and need fixing. It’s a good thing.
We saw this song live not too long ago, neither of us will ever forget it. That was one of our favourite nights together. My solo moment in the car that morning will be another favourite of mine. The lights do guide us home.
Of course, it’s possible he sings it thinking I’m singing it to him. Of course, the other night in the bath I sung it to all of you. Of course, it’s possible he just likes the song, eh? Rad riff, bru. Best build up ever, hey? Shut it honey. XO