As I sit down to write these few words, my headphones
introduce a familiar song to me: a song with which I associate a distinct
memory from my past, a song, which I hope, will help me write what I wish to. I
was gifted my first iPod when I was in tenth grade. Before that I used my
mother’s old phone which was pretty useless otherwise, except for its radio. I
would carry that phone around with me everywhere. Sweet song playlists were
peppered with lovers who spoke of their heartaches at three o’ clock in the
morning; lovers who had turned insomniacs.
On some days when my head is too full of
thoughts, a memory puts out its hand and a song fits in perfectly like a glove. Maybe it changes something of the memory- alters its accuracy, makes it more savory. I'd like to remember the way I want to. It's mine, after all.
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