I sat on a landing on the staircase and started reading. The world outside, outside of my head, was cold. There was ice on the rail and ice on my toes. I thought about yesterday.
Yesterday. Coming home from work in the car with my dad. We were going threw various raidostations. We both herd John Lennon's voice come to us on the airwaves. It was the biggest joy for me, much more so than him, mind you. I was slumped over in a daze then I heard him. My body pricked up and my eyes were wide.
"Beautiful Boy, Darling Boy." I knew the song instantly, but Dad didn't. "What is it?" I told him so. "Oh..." At that moment I went inside myself and I tried to figure out just what he ment to me. Not my dad, John.
When I was little it was like I had found a friend. Slowly, well, no. I'm lying. Very quickly it turned into love... or what I thought love was. I used to sit, sometimes still do, curled up by my speaker. Nothing else really matters. Just him. Long nights were spent, its not as frequent now, laying in front of the speaker listening to him sing about love. Love. And then I twist it around til it feels like we were ment for each other but in truth we wern't. Never were.
I don't know why I wrote this.
An open mind with curiosity lets us form attachments, those very relationships evolve with us, real or not. What we gain from those is what makes us who we are. Being cool and detached isn't being honest with yourself, it's a mask and a sign of stunted growth. A good piece of writing Margaret.
ReplyDeleteHey Margar. I know exactly what your talking about but it's not really with an artist its just one song; Just The Two of Us. I could sit all day and just listen to that song because it reminds me of when my mum and dad were still in love. Keep on writing.
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