The Old song

I sat there after the old song with tears trickling down my face. I felt ancient, and young at the same time, as the last notes vibrate out of the speakers. This song I had not heard in decades had thoroughly penetrated the present reality that I existed in.

How long had it been? Twenty years? More? The memories of concerts experienced came back along with the shame of the age I had been in. Had I truly insisted on paying the way for my mentor and his wife? I had, and I ignored his protest and buried the memory. Remembering it now felt like hacking a firewall on my memory, but I wrestled through knowing that each successful recall cemented that feeling in my psyche. It struck me that he let it go, and I was grateful because I could not have understood my reasoning.

I remember driving my green machine with the white wheels ten years prior while this music blasted on the tinny speakers. I sang at the top of my lungs daily. My teenage years were built on this music, this man who invested his life and soul into one, solitary thing. This man who still plays and sings with the purpose that he had fifty years ago.

As I listen now the memories flood in. There is a solid attachment despite the temporal distance. Even in my logical world it makes me believe in emotions, in the layered platform that is my self. I realize that I am not myself without these memories and experiences.

I once saw a bumper sticker stating that ‘Music is Life’ and I scoffed. Air is Life, I thought, or maybe food. Not music, not art. But what is life without the core of the emotional being that exists underneath the meat and software? That being is art, belief, and emotion all bound up with what little logic can be deciphered from the patterns perceived.

But occasionally, I believe. I remember, ache, and cry with the soul of me, with the vitality of young memories. I recall how, many years ago, I was manufactured. I remember the burns as I was welded into the scarred form I would ultimately take. My fresh brain was so sensitive, and it absorbed the emotions so completely.

What joys and burns formed you?

What music is etched into your DNA?

What brings unbidden tears to your eyes?

And ultimately, what part of that beautiful innocence of youth would you reintroduce into yourself today if you could? I hope that it would remind you of the years gone by and of the truth that though our emotional responses are dulled by the passing of time,they made us who we are.

There is value in the past.