shelf life

Circa 1992 David Winmill, my first high school crush, handed me something I would never forget. It was a cassette single of The Cure and he told me to listen to the song Halo. He told me the song made him think of me. This was the first time a boy told me a song made him think of me. I placed the little plastic case with the cassette intact into a shelf I carved into my heart and couldn't get home fast enough.

I raced into my room, pushing my sister aside, to listen to the words as carefully as I possibly could. I think I even stuffed a towel under the door to avoid any possible interruption. If you saw Little Miss Sunshine you will always remember the little girl's smile when she listens to that voice message telling her she is in the pagaent, afterall. That little girl will feel that way again when a boy hands her a love song and tells her that's how he feels about her.

I gave him The Jesus and Mary Chain single to Head On and I meant every breath of that song when I handed him the tape. It is a powerful feeling to hand someone your heart for the first time.

It doesn't really matter that he dropped out of school, nor that there were rumors he liked a boring, mis-shapen girl more than me. That simple gesture made me see stars that day and that was awesome. That shelf in my heart waited for another song to keep it company over the years, but it just got dusty.

Fall 2006 my husband comes home from work and tells me in the kitchen he heard a song that made him think of me. BUT he can't remember any of the words, who sang it, or how the tune goes. I dusted of that shelf in my heart and have kept it nice and clean, waiting.

This week Mike is sitting in his mother's kitchen and I am chasing our son away from the his favorite toy, you know, the dead bolt on the door. A song randomly shot into the air and he said "that's it! that's the song!" His sister's mobile phone is ringing to the tune of Snow Patrol's Chasing Cars. My eyes fill with tears and my heart spills over. I am at a loss for words, but look him in the eyes with nothing less than a look that says let's go make a baby.