46 EVIE
E VIE
I played his music for you for the first time that day. For the first time in years, really. Intentionally, I mean. Any other time their music came on, I had turned it off.
I took the long way home, driving slowly on the back roads. The car was my place to think and to take a breath, and we were in no hurry.
“I like this song,” Lainey said from the back seat.
It was a song from their third album, Astronium Nova .
Aside from the unusual choice of music, this was a ritual of ours over the years and one she enjoyed, the exploration of my iPod on car drives.
I taught her to hear and think about the music the way I once had.
“Do you? I used to listen to this band a long time ago. A very good friend of mine used to play their songs for me.” I was glad she couldn’t see my face. The expression in my eyes.
“What’s it called?”
“This song? ‘The Air Beside You.’”
“He sounds sad,” Lainey said. The trees above us formed a canopy as we drove through them on lazy bends that matched the rhythm of the song.
“You think he sounds sad?” I thought it sounded like a long walk in the park, slow kissing, and light nighttime rain.
“Yeah.” Her little voice was soft. I looked into the mirror to see her staring thoughtfully out the window at the passing scenery.
“I don’t think it sounds sad. I think it sounds ...” I paused, memories playing in my mind to the sound of the voice in the song. “Wistful.”
“What does wispful mean?”
“Wistful. With a t . It means ...” The word sat grandly in my mind, perfect, and I tried to simplify it. “It means to remember something and wish very much to be there again. To miss something or someone or another time.”
“So I was right. Sad.”
“You know how sometimes you have a really great dream, and in the morning when you wake up, you’re sort of half-awake and kind of want to go back to sleep so you can keep dreaming?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s sort of what wistful feels like.”
“I like that.”
“Me too.”
“I still think he sounds sad, though.”
I looked over and imagined him sitting next to me, his hand reaching out to take mine, as we drove down this road having this conversation that he would absolutely love. “Yeah, Lainey Bear. I guess he’s maybe a little sad too.”
The song continued to play, both of us quiet, before she spoke again.
“Hey, Mom?”
“Yeah, sweetie?”
“Can we listen to Katy Perry now? And can I eat my Goldfish?”
I laughed, the innocence you brought to my world.
In astrology, there’s something called the Pluto Square.
It tends to herald a reckoning of sorts.
Drastic changes when old patterns can no longer be ignored and new action begins.
That was that month for me, which I suppose is why I wanted to play the music for you, finally.
Apparently, squares always shout the loudest when it comes to the planets.
He would get a kick out of me trying to explain this to you.