As I’ve yet to fully enter the 21st century, I still listen to regular old radio on my way into work. It sounds so barbaric these days, “You still listen to commercial radio!?!” I get it all the time, but that’s not my point today.
As I drove to work, listening to the commercial radio, I started get a little melancholy. It seemed like every song that came on was about lost love or missing love or wanting that feeling about love or love in general. It was starting to get to me. I recently found out one of my great loves of my life will be in town next week and I’m pretty sure we won’t see each other or even talk about her visit. We actually haven't spoken at all since August. I’m assuming the less I know about her visit the better. I probably shouldn’t write it down here as I’m probably not even supposed to know about it. I don’t know any travel details and I’m not stalking her. Or at least I’m not staking her any further than Facebook will allow anyway. But it kind of made me sad that she’ll be coming to my town and we won’t even see each other. I do miss her of course.
The last time I saw her was in July on a hot summer sidewalk in New York holding a large book I gave her all about the Eiffel Tower, a big pizza box from our early lunch and an overnight bag. She had so much awkward sized stuff to carry. It’s one of those memories that will always stick with me. I watched her walk down the street as I waited for a cab to take me to the airport. I think we looked back at each other at least twice before I got into the cab. That was the last time I saw her. And now to know she’s coming to town has my head all dizzy.
The songs on the radio didn’t help. Last night I had committed myself to just staying out of her way, letting her just do her thing with the people she knows in Chicago and I shouldn’t be a second thought for her; although I would like to be of course. But when Aretha Franklin started singing Say A Little Prayer for You, I got a little choked up and my resolve wavered and I thought that perhaps I should just send my old love an e-mail. Then song after song was about missing someone you loved and it just whaled on and by the time I parked my car I was ready to start bawling with the old heartbreak feeling fresh and new.
I trudged into the office and I saw I had a voicemail. I thought it was probably some crazy jerk claimant wanting me to give them money because they burped wrong while in a store and it hurt their throat. But no! Instead I was treated to another classic punk rock voicemail from a very dear friend and it was just the pick me up I needed. That punk rock song cancelled out all the sad, lovesick music of the morning drive and gave me a little hope for the rest of the day. So she’s coming to town, that’s okay. I’ll always love her and I’m sure she knows it and we don’t have to get in each other’s way. (Unless she wants to of course, I’m still a sucker for her.)
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