July 22nd, 2024

I have to, now. I wish I knew the Why.

You see, I'm always drawn back to the trampoline and the patchwork sky above. The moon was wandering above all of that, pushing everything it had to reflect down. Down onto some random night in some random county at some random time. Admittedly, a long time ago, but it defined me in such a way that it's stuck around like a tattoo. I have a few. That one can't be seen though. Not to anyone without a wandering eye. Those are the best art.

I measured days, then weeks, then months, then years against that sky above. Foolishness, really. No one finds their endgame that young. No one.

I did what I could. I wrote about it in music and lyric. I wrote about it in words and paragraphs. I told tales about it to those who would listen and it all seems so naive and silly in retrospect. But it wasn't. Those notes, those lyrics, those words, they were all real. They were all a part of a life. Mine. It carried me through two marriages. It just wasn't enough. I lament that.

The world changes. It has no choice. We move and ebb like a river. That's how we're supposed to flow. We all do that. It's beautiful in its design.

But every now and then, not often, but every now and then you come across someone who leaves such an indelible mark on you that you can't help but see them in every sunset. In all of them. The sunsets, I mean.

You're merely a myth to my children. A story I've told on occasion, once they were older, so that they knew who their Daddy once was. So that they knew where all of my words and all of my notes and all of my hope came from. So that they knew why my music was fraught with melancholy and patience and dust. Why my words were meticulous and merry and waiting.

Some songs simply do not have an ending. Sunsets don't either. Neither do poems or letters or books.

Thank you for letting me know you once upon a time. I'm so very glad you were always my ellipsis.

M