It could nearly be like a picture print by Currier and Ives

I went back to a small box of memories from 1986, a cassette I bought and the Sony Walkman I played it on wearing a second-hand coat and buying my first pack of cigarettes, walking the hillsides and small neighborhoods in my home town, getting caught in the rain, having my heart broken for the first time but feeling empowered by that, feeling a new space open up inside of me. I dreamt I was hearing a song from that cassette in a jacuzzi, somewhere in the mountains of Europe in the winter, with snow falling, the girl beside me. It was less a sexual fantasy and more a dream of companionship. And I carried on brooding, finding poetry through the endless depths of introspection, spending more and more time alone, with music.

It was Christmas morning and I lay in bed with Dawn beside me, the dog nearby stirring, the sound of the cat’s collar like a tambourine as she jumped on the bed and crept closer, circling between my ankles. then settling down. There was no time we had to get up really. I listened for the chime of the clock and counted seven, and for a time I could have been anywhere, but was right where I needed to be.

Categories: identity, Memoir, writing

Tags: , , , , ,

14 replies

  1. Evocative – love your closing paragraph – know that tambourine effect well!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. happy in the moment, as it should be. happy christmas

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Just finished walking the dog to the soothing strains of 70s soft rock — Bread, Chi-lites, Carpenters, Three Degrees, Leo Sayer, and Nazareth, to name a few. Hope you’re still right where you need to be, and havin’ a Merry Christmas.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Ah yup, cap’n. To you and yours, signing off.


    • 70’s soft rock is my secret shame. I love it but I have a carefully maintained reputation to protect. I can’t let anyone know 10cc’s I’m Not In Love makes me alternately laugh and cry. Of course he’s in love! Worse case of denial ever. She’s Gone by Hall + Oates, same thing.

      Think I’ll spend eternity in the city
      I’ll let the carbon and monoxide choke my thoughts away
      The pretty bodies help dissolve the memories
      But they can never be what she was to me

      Don’t tell anyone that’s what happened to me! Please!

      Liked by 2 people

      • Your secret is safe with me. Not that it’s anything to be ashamed of. Like Walt Whitman, we are large, we contain multitudes. I’m proud to like “Master of Puppets” every bit as much as “Close to You.” Why do stars suddenly appear every time you are near? Blinded by me you can’t see a thing. Just call my name cause I’ll hear you scream.

        Liked by 1 person

      • That sounds like Karen Carpenter…alongside Metallica!

        Liked by 1 person

      • Dude we watched that Daryl’s House show or whatever and two versions of she’s gone, followed by two versions of Sarah smile. You should look that up if you haven’t seen it.


  4. Hand coloured sepia moment, that. Lovely.
    Makes me want to play some Cocteau Twins (or perhaps it was a previous post).

    Liked by 1 person

  5. The beautiful part is the tag ‘creative nonfiction.’ That’s your actual life! It’s what people aspire to but not everyone gets there. It’s like you won the Game of Life. The best contest prize ever.

    Liked by 1 person

    • That’s a beautiful sentiment Mark and thanks for sharing it. Hope you’re recovering and better from that recent procedure…looking forward to your next post!


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