Skip to main content

White boy and Ben Howard

  There is something beautifully broken about deja vu. I heard once that it is your mind telling you that you have been here, in this moment, and survived. That all will be well. But I suppose this wasn't entirely concrete deja vu. This was me rewriting memories.
  Three years ago, I sat in this exact theatre waiting for Ben Howard to sing to me. I waited for him to open up and bare his soul in a way that no musician ever had. This time, although still waiting for him, it was just night and day in my circumstance.
  Walking the long distance, was somewhat of a different cadence. Last time, I walked next to a man who broke me and tried to glue me back together with an emotionless dalliance and cacophonous pleasantries. This time I couldn't stop thinking of the man who gave nothing but euphoric words of forever.
  To be honest, I wasn't sure how Ben would speak to me this time around. Would it be a stroll down memory lane or would it be a whole new adventure full of passion and noonday dreams begetting life. It wasn't until the first strum of his guitar and his opening line, "To care or not to care/ to be there in the distant and uncertain..." that I felt the old memory slough off in sheets of sludge. I was new. I was loved!
  This man, Ben Howard, has seen me through ups and downs of love lost and gained...or perhaps what I thought was love. And through it all has whisked me to the highest grandeur. My heart begged to be lying next to my love or yet more strongly for him to be next to me wiping the tears away as present rewrote history.
  I wish I could have known then what I know now...that white boy would replace all. But it seemed that Ben new... he knew as he sang, "Sister, love comes and goes/we walk a tight rope..." What a beautiful reminder that music brings life. That it brings love. Last time, I sat cracked and bleeding out. This time, I sat so fully whole...begging, in my heart, to be by my lover's side. Can't wait to be home tomorrow!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Beneath the Weeping Willow

  "The willow submits to the wind and prospers until one day it is many willows—a wall against the wind. This is the willow's purpose." —  Frank Herbert, Dune   Time, although a very evasive concept, is in each moment a gift. And most often, I don't stop to look back at the road I have traveled on. Even more so, the road Justin and I have travelled together. But today it is warranted. Today marks 9 years as husband and wife, and 9 years of truly some amazing and adverse moments. We have lost the most cherished and birthed the most loved all the while interwoven with each other.    I will be the first to admit that our day to day appears to some: mundane. However, inside the ordinary he and I together have understood the profundity of love. It is brash and loud, but it is also cautious and quiet.  "Love is a many splendored thing."  It is the true basis of community, and I am proud of the community we have built.   The  willow  is the t...

Being his girlfriend

"Are you happy being my girlfriend?" He asks. In all seriousness. In all honesty. He asks. Never once have I been asked such a damned difficult question. Never once have I been asked that slight simple question. Never once have I been asked THAT question.   Immediately, my head goes a thousand different directions. I want to give him the most honest answer. But lately I feel as though I am trying to quantity my happiness. Yes. I. Am. Happy. But what is happiness? Am I? Can I honestly say that I am happy? I don't know.   Before I make an ass out of myself, I must say this: not one time in the history of Aly and men has she ever felt like her significant other was shelter. You know that line from Finding Nemo where Dory says to Marlin, "When I look at you, I remember. When I look at you, I am home." That's the way I feel when I am in his arms. Home. Perhaps it best not to tell him such a bold thought, but it's true.   Back to this question. Am I happy b...

Seconds

  I always tried, growing up, to see if I felt different in certain moments of time. Such as when the clock strikes midnight on my birthday or when it strikes midnight bringing in a new year. Does that one second really feel different? No. Not usually. And that one second isn't truly that significant. But seconds can be significant. In fact, in one second our lives can be completely different.   For the last few months, 6 perhaps, there has been more overwhelming hatred for 2016. It has proven to be a very hard year. I have seen the death of my grandmother, the death of others dear to my friends, rape and murder scattered throughout this world like salt on a wound, natural disasters leaving thousands dead, and the tipping point of a nation that can't seem to get it right.   And as I wax nostalgic, I cringe at the bad, shake my head at the dumbfounded, but then remind myself to embrace and celebrate the good. Because in the midst of all the not good...there is good. The...