Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Baby I love your way...

When I was in junior high school, I was in love with a girl named Rachelle. In fact, I was so in love with her, that when she broke up with me, I cried like a baby. Well, technically, she broke up with me after I confronted her about making out with my best friend Francisco, but who’s really keeping track? She remains the only girl I ever cried over. Oddly enough, one of my biggest regrets in life was telling her that I thought the song she dubbed "our" song was stupid, before I had really listened to the lyrics and let their simple, yet powerful meaning sink in.

I remember the night it happened, no not when I saw her making out with Francisco behind the gym, although I do remember that day as well. I mean the night she called me and told me to turn on the television. I remember talking to her while the video to "Baby I love your way" by Blue Mountain played in the background, the bright glow from the t.v. screen casting shadows across the room that danced to the music. She told me to listen to the song, and that she had decided it was ours. Before the song had even ended, I told her that it was stupid and that we should pick another one. I don't remember exactly why I thought this, or what my alternate suggestions were, but what I do know is how much I've grown to love this song, and how every time I hear it, I think about how much I regret hastily showing my disapproval to someone who was expressing something so heartfelt and loving. I of all people should know how meaningful songs can be.

When I was nine, my mother passed away from breast cancer and one of the ways I would comfort myself would be to play Smokey Robinson's "Just to See Her" on my older sister's record player. I would lie in her bed listening to the song over and over again until I had cried myself to sleep. I guess I thought that if I recited the lyrics to the song enough times, that I would be granted the opportunity to see her again, as not being able to say goodbye was a huge point of contention in my life for a long time. Both songs share such simple affirmations, but represent extremely powerful sentiments.

As I drove home tonight from a friend's house, a familiar song played on the radio. I sang out loud to it as I normally do. Moonlight had already tucked the city in, and the night's cool breeze flowed through my hair. Street lights projected long shadows across the pavement that reminded me of that regretful night. The gift wrapped nostalgia brought a smile to my face. I'm not sure why this one memory is seared so vividly in my mind, or why it has left such an indelible impression. I just know that I won't ever take such a moment for granted again. Interesting how life chooses to teach us sometimes isn’t it?

8 comments:

MistyMichelle0163 said...

You're lucky in some way to have only cried over one girl in your whole life. It's interesting, as we get older, how even the sad memories become kind of a bittersweet nostalgia, or measuring stick for our emotional evolution. You write beautifully when you're writing from the heart.

Brown said...

Misty - I don't know if I would go so far as to call that lucky. Oh, and thanks for the compliment, I think.

krista zee said...

Ever look up Rachelle on facebook to see where she is now?

Brown said...

krista - Lol....totally.

mischief said...

I hope for you, that you fall in love again like that, enough to cry yourself to sleep, enough to think about someone for the rest of your life. And then I hope that there is little need for tears.

Seeking Serenity said...

Just now reading through some of your recent blog posts and loving a few of them, but I gotta tell you that this one brought me to tears. The healing kind, albeit with my own sadness of regret and/or wistfulness present momentarily. I think the unique talent you possess to portray your self in a way that evokes your reader to feel their intimate and vulnerable self is absolutely exceptional. Excellent piece of work.

Brown said...

mischief - such a lovely thing for you to say. I too wish the same, but often feel undeserving.

serenity - Wow, so eloquently stated! It appears you wield an exceptional talent with words yourself. A genuine and heartfelt thank you for your beautiful compliment.

heartinsanfrancisco said...

If we were on Facebook, I would "like" Mischief's comment because I wish you the same. I would also like to send you some big warm motherly hugs - I'm sorry you didn't get to say goodbye, but also certain that your mother knew your heart.