I listened to Big Jet Plane over and over and over again the day I had you. I gritted my teeth and and tried to crawl inside that song, away from my body, away from the pain…imagining that you were there inside the music, that I was singing it to you.
It came on the other day and I watched you while you slept, whispering the words to you in your dreams.
Gonna hold ya
Gonna kiss ya,
in my arms.
Gonna take ya
away from harm…
it was always just the two of us…my dad and I orbiting around each other like some kind of unseen stars. he fought for me. he fought it for it to be that way, just him and I and eventually the kitten he named Twinkle. He bounced around the world, singing songs, making music, tip toeing that line between father and musician…and I bounced around from bedroom to bedroom, family member to family member waiting for him to come back for me. Home was the closet I slept in when he was home. the closet he fit a mattress in and fixed stars to the ceiling so it wouldn’t get dark. Home was the chair at his desk with his book of song lyrics in my lap. Home was the utility van that smelled like spilled coffee and guitar cases burning in the sun. Home was his pillowcase that smelled like infusium at 12 o clock in the afternoon. Home was the table closest to the stage, the inside of an open guitar case, thoroughbred music store. Home was just the two of us. Home was my father…not any specific address, just him…always him.
And I liked my mattress in my closet and I liked his long hair and boots and earrings. I liked the callouses on his hands from the viscosity of the guitar strings. I liked listening to band rehearsals and going to gigs. I liked our bizarre schedule, I liked waiting for him in the airport terminal tour after tour.
I liked that I never had to share him.
But now…now I do. While I’m home with my newborn, he’s home with his, texting me pictures, asking me questions. And I wonder who the father will be that this tiny brother of mine will remember…because the father I have locked inside my beaten box of memories just doesn’t exist anymore. The father I remember won’t be the father J does…the father of his childhood will be someone I’ve never really met…and the father that hung the stars in my sky, J will only know in old photographs.
I can’t shake the feeling that we’re living in a parallel universe, he and I.
we went to the doctor today and you didn’t cry once. not when they weighed you, not when the doctor touched you withe her cold, unfamiliar hands. not when she shined light in your eyes, not when she listened to your heartbeat. you were so perfect. and so big.
you weigh 11 lbs 1 oz now and you’re 23.3 inches long.
your legs are getting chubby, right at the thighs. when you were born, I would hold you curled up on my chest and I would rub your back with the tips of my fingers. and when I did, you reminded me of a tiny bulldog, a puppy with lots of skin to fill out and grow into…skin that rippled in waves all the way to the nape of your neck. and when it got bunched up, I would smooth it out again and start all over.
I was rubbing your back last night and when I trailed my hand up to smooth out the skin, I realized I didn’t need to.
and I held you longer than usual.
the days are going by quickly and they’re taking my newborn with them.
the babies are sleeping. the incense is burning. the coffee is brewing. the crystal in the window is sending rainbows spiraling through the living room. the dogs are sprawled out on the couch. the boy is in the shower. the music is turned up loud.
the soundtrack of our sunday.
lets play a game where you leave me your favorite songs in the comments.
it’ll be fun.
promise.
land for miles. trees that touch the clouds. sunburned shoulders. all the pretty horses. happy in your pop pop’s arms. feet swinging in the air. flowers and vines…things that creep, things that bloom. trees that grow from nightmares, trees that grow from dreams. a trail of tiny footprints. rusting metal, rotting rubber, weeds and thorns and faded petals.
Come my love I’ll tell you a tale
Of a boy and girl and their love story
And how he loved her oh so much
And all the charms she did possess
Now this did happen once upon a time
When things were not so complex
How he worshiped the ground she walked
And when he looked in her eyes he became obsessed.
He said, “Don’t you know I love you oh so much
And lay my heart at the foot of your dress?”
She said, “Don’t you know that storybook loves
Always have a happy ending?”
Then he swooped her up just like in the books
And on his stallion they rode away…
perhaps on friday you were doing nothing markedly special. perhaps the day was mundane. perhaps you were angry or overwhelmed or perhaps it was so completely ordinary that you hardly remember it at all.
just know that on what may have seemed just another friday…somewhere in the universe a star exploded. children were born into the world and tragedies unfolded. flowers broke the earth and in some skies there might have been a rainbow. and in a tiny little town in the middle of nowhere truly remarkable, there was the promise of true love. a solemn swear to find it, trap it, live it, and breathe it. to succumb to it completely.
the weather will change and days will pass until we find that the 20th of april is close, looming again just over the horizon. and as the monotony of the day unfolds…remember that promise, the one that was made under a canopy of leaves with hands entwined…in a tiny little town in the middle of nowhere previously remarkable.
this was the week where you looked up at me and studied my eyes quite critically for a minute before a smile devoured every part of your face. A smile so big that your eyes squeezed shut. A smile that was meaningful, purposeful. A smile that was meant for me.
And then I gave you eskimo kisses.
she plays a tune for those who wish to overlook
the fact that they’ve been blindly deceived
by those who preach and pray and teach
but she falls short and the night explodes in laughter
well i guess sometimes I wish you were a little more predictable
that I could read you just like a book
for now I can only guess what’s coming next…
____________________
1. Datura is the greatest song there ever was. Listen to it more than once.
2. It’s been an ongoing Bloc Party dance marathon in our living room the last few days. Join us.
ryan and koko are getting married tomorrow.
I’d paint their names across the sky in fire if I could.
because then…then, everyone would look up in wonder and say to themselves, ‘my god…if only I knew a love that could burn brighter than the face of the sun…if only. does a love like that truly exist…?’
and I would tell them all. I would tell them all that yes, a love like that truly exists.
and tomorrow is the day it will set the sky ablaze.
Heavy night, it was a heavy night
Feels like we come back from the dead
Heavy night, it was a heavy night
I cannot remember what I said to anyone
If we get up now we can catch the afternoon
Watch the under 15s playing football in the park
Let’s sit in St. Leonard’s in this alcoholic day
we’re doing the best with what we’ve got
I love you in the morning,
When you’re still hung-over
I love you in the morning,
When you’re still strung out,
I love you in the morning
I work hard all week, and so do you
We deserve to let off some steam
Less orthodox creeping when we need to rage through this life
There might be ones who are smarter than you
That have the right answers
That wear better shoes
Forget about those melting ice caps…
we’re doing the best with what we’ve got.
I love you in the morning,
When you’re still hung-over
I love you in the morning,
When you’re still strung out,
I love you in the morning.
With you I am calm
A pearl in your oyster
Head on my chest and a silent smile,
a private kind of happiness
You see giant proclamations are all very well
But our love is louder than words.
