"A song can have as many meanings as the times you hear it."- Me, today.
At 16, Paris is a magical place. Scratch that. At any age, Paris is a magical place, but at 16, on your own for the first time, it's a world of discovery, and speaks a language all its own. Skipping along the Seine, arm in arm, we belted out lyrics from Creedence Clearwater Revival, singing about someone long ago and a calm before the storm. The mist turned to a steady drizzle, and our hair frizzed beneath our Parisian scarves, as we spoke of boys with longish hair that curled up at the ends, crushes and doubts, and how anything is possible.
At 16, Paris is a magical place. Scratch that. At any age, Paris is a magical place, but at 16, on your own for the first time, it's a world of discovery, and speaks a language all its own. Skipping along the Seine, arm in arm, we belted out lyrics from Creedence Clearwater Revival, singing about someone long ago and a calm before the storm. The mist turned to a steady drizzle, and our hair frizzed beneath our Parisian scarves, as we spoke of boys with longish hair that curled up at the ends, crushes and doubts, and how anything is possible.
At 17, I stood on a stage, and electricity shot out of my fingers. I watched the bright lights flood my vision, and the people dissolve into a shadow, until there was nothing left but who and what was in the spotlight. I heard the strains of a guitar and my breath caught, realizing for the first time what "real" is, and flashing to the Velveteen Rabbit and the truth behind it.
When I was 19, it snowed and the world collapsed. The weight of my chest was too heavy and the entirety of reeling from a broken heart made everything seem like it would never be okay again. And then somehow, the bitter sun shone, and through the circle (fast and slow) the air warmed, and there were fireworks and friends and somewhere along the way, I remembered how to laugh.
At 25, I drove across the country, and sang with reckless abandon, watching the rivers transform into fields, then mountains, then ocean. Freedom swept my hair from my face- jubilation in a Cabriolet Convertible- moving always towards the horizon and the possibility of everything.
Almost a decade later, I dance around the kitchen, life decided, die cast, with a baby in my arms, and a toddler at my knees, pounding out "I wanna know"against the hardwood floors, in time with the guitar riff, with our feet. Dissolving into giggles, we play air drums and cymbals, and on a sunny day, all is right with the world. "Til forever, on it goes."
