Continuing on our memory lane theme. I’ve mentioned before it’s hard to remember specific moments throughout time, but the ones I DO remember are small yet carry heavy, heavy weight. And you know what helps? Music. Here’s two:
-The morning of October 17th, 2020. I’m wearing my emerald green bathrobe. I’m sitting at my vanity in my bedroom, massaging lotion into my hands (Somerset Meadow by Crabtree + Evelyn) and looking in the mirror. I let my Spotify wander freely, and “Jackie’s Strength” by Tori Amos starts playing. From The Choirgirl Hotel was an important album to me, yes, but it’s hitting different this morning because as she sings the opening line “A Bouvier ’til her wedding day” I feel connected in a strange new way, because that was the morning of my own wedding day. It’s not a happy song for a joyful bride by any means but something in hearing those words made the day I was about to have suddenly become real. I allowed myself to feel that full weight and sat listening, continuing to stare in the mirror. Naturally, I played the same song on repeat maybe eight more times because that’s what you do when a song makes you feel something, right? Absolutely inundate yourself until you’re regulated again. Neurospicy pro tips!
-Summer 2010. I’m laying on the living room rug in the third floor studio apartment of my friend. He’s lazily playing “Lua” by Bright Eyes on his guitar and I’m absentmindedly singing along in harmony. I’m watching dust swirl in the sunbeams coming through the south facing windows that look out over Lyon street in Heritage Hill. I’m remembering some weeks prior, he picked me up from the airport where I had just flown back from Boston after a brutal, brutal breakup. When you’re young every breakup is brutal though, isn’t it? I remember I couldn’t even speak when I got into the car after my plane landed, and to his credit he did not pry. Halfway home, I managed to turn to him and lament, “I didn’t even get any clam chowder.” It’s okay, you can laugh. I definitely laugh about that moment now. On his rug was the first time I felt okay after sitting inside a black pit for weeks. While I was still a long way from happy, I at least managed to find peace. So that’s what I feel now whenever I hear that song. I still haven’t had any real Boston clam chowder but hey, I got time.
I think I could make this a regular “column” here – when I come across a song that has a vivid memory attached I’ll pop by and jot it down.
xo
Marisa
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