His Songs Were Theirs All Along

5 August 2013
9:47 pm

T. —

The night is full of wine and ice cream. The day was full of tea and chocolate and popcorn and salad and exploring and thoughts and questions and walking and returning and couch-lounging and kisses. Andrew was off work today. It’s the summer bank holiday in Scotland. I love bank holidays. He woke me up this morning and asked, If you had one wish, what would you wish for?

One more day of weekend, I said.

He smiled. Surprise. Guess what day it is?

Bank holidays feel like they give me my husband back. They’re a really good investment, in terms of my relationship, my household, my future happinesses. A good day to reset things. A good time to spend laughing, to put off stress and anxiety. To dissolve external concerns. A day where your only accountability is to the hours inside you.

Good night,

P.S. The night is full of echoes. I’ve been here before, but it has never looked quite like this.

The Wolves used to be full of my regrets and past pains (With the wild wolves around you… swing wide your crane and run me through). It was the anthem for my lost love (what might have been lost). Tonight, it is a different chapter of my story (In the morning, I’ll call you. Send it farther on. When your eyes are all painted Sinatra blue.)

P.P.S. This youtube comment made me smile:

“What Jimi Hendrix did to Bob Dylan, teen girls have done to Bon Iver. His songs were theirs all along.”


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