There was a time when the words of Stephen Stills ranked over those of Mick Jagger, but I think the time has come to rework the soundtrack to our lives and find some new messages to live by.
I still remember that morning. I was minutes away from needing to be at work. I had already seen you earlier that day. We sat in your car at Bataan Park, the rain coming down hard, the windows steamy, the air thick with unbridled tension. You had babysitting duty coming up later that day and you were fielding calls from your girlfriend, getting the time down. You told me about Rascal Flatts, about how you placed one their albums on hold for me, about how their lyrics, about how "loving me out loud" was how you truly felt about life and us. But it was later on, when I stood out in the rain, talking to you on the pay phone, talking you dressed in a sodden shirt and tie, that it became all too clear what our roles were to be, what songs the piper would be playing for us.
You told me once to be brave like you. I suppose that the chorus you sung to me over the phone that day was an further indication of that. It made no difference, really, if I "had a lot of balls" or not by calling you at home. What was one more risk to brave after all that we had already been through? But when those lyrics hit my ear, "that if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with", I figured you were talking about me, about my relationship with the Estranged One. You wanted me to make that work, to take the edge off your guilt and baby, at the time, it was the last thing I ever wanted to hear from you.
But maybe it was just another part of your story, maybe it was another song in your juke box, , one that you were playing loud and proud to get my attention. Maybe you were trying to tell me something, something that I couldn't hear at the time due to all the raging sadness roaring around in my head.
This morning I hit the shower late. The soothing sounds of water making their way out of the pipe and down the drain were the only sounds going on in the house. I had The Hot Dog King over for supper the night before and I was tired from listening to his heart wrenching saga, from hearing how his life was melting down around his ears. What I wanted was to hear silence, hear water trickling, to hear the sounds of sunshine and peace and order. What I got, instead, was the reverberating echo of an old Stones song. What I heard was the lyrics to the story that I needed to hear years before but had turned a deaf ear to.
I suppose I can thank Mi Novia for that, to making my ear pitch perfect. As the water ran I thought about the boatloads of injustice that I threw her way, how I listened to her to her stories, how I enticed her good nature, how I made it all so easy for her heart to blossum here, and then, just when things looked good, I turned away, still all too confused about my life and the needs of the Estranged One and fate of my children and how shitty the world would look through the distorted lenses of a long and sodden divorce epic. I didn't want for her to be the fall gal, but I also didn't want someone else in the picture to further muddy up the waters of my life, either.
I still remember that morning. I was minutes away from needing to be at work. I had already seen you earlier that day. We sat in your car at Bataan Park, the rain coming down hard, the windows steamy, the air thick with unbridled tension. You had babysitting duty coming up later that day and you were fielding calls from your girlfriend, getting the time down. You told me about Rascal Flatts, about how you placed one their albums on hold for me, about how their lyrics, about how "loving me out loud" was how you truly felt about life and us. But it was later on, when I stood out in the rain, talking to you on the pay phone, talking you dressed in a sodden shirt and tie, that it became all too clear what our roles were to be, what songs the piper would be playing for us.
You told me once to be brave like you. I suppose that the chorus you sung to me over the phone that day was an further indication of that. It made no difference, really, if I "had a lot of balls" or not by calling you at home. What was one more risk to brave after all that we had already been through? But when those lyrics hit my ear, "that if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with", I figured you were talking about me, about my relationship with the Estranged One. You wanted me to make that work, to take the edge off your guilt and baby, at the time, it was the last thing I ever wanted to hear from you.
But maybe it was just another part of your story, maybe it was another song in your juke box, , one that you were playing loud and proud to get my attention. Maybe you were trying to tell me something, something that I couldn't hear at the time due to all the raging sadness roaring around in my head.
This morning I hit the shower late. The soothing sounds of water making their way out of the pipe and down the drain were the only sounds going on in the house. I had The Hot Dog King over for supper the night before and I was tired from listening to his heart wrenching saga, from hearing how his life was melting down around his ears. What I wanted was to hear silence, hear water trickling, to hear the sounds of sunshine and peace and order. What I got, instead, was the reverberating echo of an old Stones song. What I heard was the lyrics to the story that I needed to hear years before but had turned a deaf ear to.
I suppose I can thank Mi Novia for that, to making my ear pitch perfect. As the water ran I thought about the boatloads of injustice that I threw her way, how I listened to her to her stories, how I enticed her good nature, how I made it all so easy for her heart to blossum here, and then, just when things looked good, I turned away, still all too confused about my life and the needs of the Estranged One and fate of my children and how shitty the world would look through the distorted lenses of a long and sodden divorce epic. I didn't want for her to be the fall gal, but I also didn't want someone else in the picture to further muddy up the waters of my life, either.
But what's funny is that no matter what I wanted she was already part of the saga. She was the reason why Pandora's email box was left open. That open email box was the reason why our story was made clear to the Estranged One. Mi Novia's departure freed me up to write even more stories about you, which helped me to further clarify my strained feelings about you. Without Mi Novia as a filter in my life I became smitten with a colleague, which led to a damning blog post, which led the forces of evil here to our story, which opened up our world to my employer, which was roundly misconstrued but mattered not a wit.
You see, Mi Novia was and has been my true savior, the one that released me from my bondage to the past, to you, to the Estranged One. She came into my world, had me examine my feelings about you and the past and had me look hard at my future. Had it not been for the fact that I blinked, I am sure that she would be living here with me right now. I would be looking at some sort of strange holiday arrangement and you, my love, would just be another part of my past, another star in the firmament of my long and interesting life.
But it didn't work out that way and here I am, still telling our story, still talking to you about my life, all that.
But still, I think about that gal and send her notes every now and again. Yesterday was her birthday and I thought about how last year we sat on my couch in the living room and looked out at the snow coming down oh so hard. I thought I was living a good life then. I was working, I was sincere about my feelings for that gal, it was the holiday season and it looked as if everything would work out.
You see at that time I started singing a new song. I forgot about it for awhile but the song came back to me while I was in the shower. And while I didn't sing it out loud, had I had a phone connection through to you I think I might have warbled a bit of it.
"You can't always get what you want
but if you try sometime
you just might find
you get what you need".
She was what I needed. Pity I couldn't see it at the time.
New songs for old lovers. Drop another dime in the jukebox, honey, we need some fresh tunes.
Love, your WHMB
You see, Mi Novia was and has been my true savior, the one that released me from my bondage to the past, to you, to the Estranged One. She came into my world, had me examine my feelings about you and the past and had me look hard at my future. Had it not been for the fact that I blinked, I am sure that she would be living here with me right now. I would be looking at some sort of strange holiday arrangement and you, my love, would just be another part of my past, another star in the firmament of my long and interesting life.
But it didn't work out that way and here I am, still telling our story, still talking to you about my life, all that.
But still, I think about that gal and send her notes every now and again. Yesterday was her birthday and I thought about how last year we sat on my couch in the living room and looked out at the snow coming down oh so hard. I thought I was living a good life then. I was working, I was sincere about my feelings for that gal, it was the holiday season and it looked as if everything would work out.
You see at that time I started singing a new song. I forgot about it for awhile but the song came back to me while I was in the shower. And while I didn't sing it out loud, had I had a phone connection through to you I think I might have warbled a bit of it.
"You can't always get what you want
but if you try sometime
you just might find
you get what you need".
She was what I needed. Pity I couldn't see it at the time.
New songs for old lovers. Drop another dime in the jukebox, honey, we need some fresh tunes.
Love, your WHMB
Stephen Stills: Love the One You're With:
Rolling Stones: Can't Always Get What You Want:
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