Berman & Garfunkel
The universe seems to have a mind of its own.
And it’s own, incalculably unpredictable agenda. Even with small things which may seem meaningless at first.
Innocuously, an old Clapton song made a deep footprint in my mind as I was getting in the car earlier this morning. I searched for it on Spotify but I must have “mistyped” because a Paul Simon album I haven’t heard in at least ten years popped up.
So I played it on the way to Starbucks.
And I was crying in seconds.
My dad loved this album and always smiled when I surprised him with it at home or in the car. But I didn’t reflect on this with words. I felt him. I saw him so clearly. Driving. Fingers tapping on the steering wheel. Singing along. Graying hair, like mine now. And if it was the summer, I’d turn his heated seat on when he wasn’t looking.
So what does this all mean?
Was it divine serendipity or blind coincidence coming out of chaos?
In this moment, I couldn’t care less.
I’m just so grateful for a such a strong memory of him happy and healthy. And I’m so grateful it’s lingering with me as I sit here with an iced coffee while writing to you.
And with that, maybe we can all go a bit easier on our loved ones today. Yep, they can stress us out at times, but trust me when I tell you that it all ends. And all we’ll have left, when they’re made available to us, are our memories.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. Without you, my words would have no purpose. So, thank you.
“Calling old friends on the corners, just to lay our prayers upon them.” – Paul Simon