Surely (I do not jest)

Not long ago, I heard songs that reminded me of college. I was back in a practice room, music surrounding me like a fog. I had half-forgotten the power of music but in an instant, I remembered. Music and the people I knew then are intertwined. Dan Fogelberg will always remind me of my friend, Lisa. Chicago (the band) takes me right back to the roller skating rink in Springfield.

A few days later, I tried to combat a sleepless night with lullabies (J.J. Heller, if you must know) . . . but the songs that had comforted me back in San Diego flooded me with the restless loneliness, the stress of our impending move, the uncertainties that soaked me to the bone. I turned it off because I did not need to be back in that headspace.

Some of my favorite songs are those that played on the radio in the seventies. I remember my dad singing along in the car while I sat in the backseat, looking out the windows. Killing Me Softly and Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head bring my dad to me, if only for a few minutes at a time. (Funny thing, though, is that I didn’t really grow up listening to much music. I preferred playing the piano and eventually starting singing along with my barely passable piano playing. I even wrote some songs in college–mostly cringe-worthy–and then recorded them on a cassette and tucked that part of myself away when I got married.)

But music takes me on journeys and I take music on my journeys, too. (Last summer, I listened to the new Taylor Swift album while driving across the southwest . . . I had saved it just for that purpose.)

-*-*-*-

I woke up to surprise snow today. Yesterday, I noticed that the melting snow had revealed portions of our lawn. The white covered hills had turned a drab brown, but today everything was bright white again with a brilliant blue sky. Somewhere around 4-5 inches fell, so instead of running errands today, I stayed put and tried to sew. I mean, I did sew, but my forty-five year old sewing machine gave me a lot of trouble (with its tension) and the new-to-me machine that I bought in San Diego from Facebook Marketplace didn’t work at ALL, so I started with the forty-five year old machine, switched to the newer machine, then switched back. I cobbled together a bag for my daughter (a car trash bag) and it looks cute from a distance, but I have to get a new machine before I move forward.

And that took up a large part of my day.

My husband went to Texas on a trip delayed by 10 days . . . he was originally scheduled to go on the day that the cold weather blustered into Texas, so his original flight was canceled. Anyway, while he’s gone I’m trying to get to a bunch of stuff that gets neglected around here (plus I have three days off in a row), so the sewing machine fiasco was a big time waster, but what can you do? Just move forward.

This week here, the weather is supposed to warm up. Supposedly it will be fifty degrees next week. I guess the end of winter is in sight. I survived my first Minnesota winter. Yay, me.

Okay, that’s all. I’m AGAIN going to try to get back to this blog on a regular basis. I miss writing. Does writing miss me?

One thought on “Surely (I do not jest)

  1. I look forward to your posts so keep moving forward. I think writing does miss you.
    Speaking of moving…..you have an impending move?

    Like

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