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I Took a Trip In A Time Machine

on 6 February, 2015

I
had thrown myself head first into playing catchup on the pile of quilts in my guest bedroom. Not sure if I’ve mentioned it here or not, but I also have a creative blog that includes sewing quilts. And sometimes that takes up a lot of my free time. Especially if I am feeling overwhelmed or misdirected. And that’s what happened over the last week.

And I know that I should be better while trying to build a readership, but I am flaky like that. What’s a girl to do?

And on Sunday, me and The Kid are planning to go south. I am thinking a week long trip but we may get tired of each other and see everything that we want to see.

Our intentions are to use The Alamo as the furthest point for the trip. We are free to follow whatever road and/or hunch that we have in between home and The Alamo. I imagine that having so much to see and do in Texas will take up a lot of time. Its been, oh what, like thirty years since I’ve lived in Texas. We may actually venture all the way down to Corpus Christi and Padre Island. Maybe.

I am but a few posts away from my 400th post. You may be wondering where they all are. Well, there was a period when I started writing this post that what I was writing was pretty raw, hard and edgy. And hurtful. Very, very hurtful. It was a catharsis for a long time, but then it just became mean words and I wanted to put that behind me so that I could move forward.

So, here I am. At a serious crossroads. I would so love to be working towards moving to Europe. Or going back to school. Or trying my hand at a new career. But I seem to be stuck. Most days I just try not to think too much.

I don’t know what else to do. Most days are a just one long blur between getting up and going back to bed.

But today, I thought about my Dad. Instead of endless noise of having movies playing in the background, I put on music instead. And it occurred to me that I was listening to the same music my son listens to. Not all of it, but a significant portion. Which then made think about my Dad.

My Dad was a country music guy. No, wait, I take that back. He was a country & western music guy. I mean, old school country. Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Tammy Wynette, Patsy Cline and Johnny Cash. For Christmas one year, I bought Time Life’s Greatest Country Music CD set. Ten awesome CDs filled to the brim of the best from the 50’s and 60’s. Actually bought two, one for him and one for me. He loved it.

He never listened to anything else. Not The Beatles. Not the Beach Boys. Not anything remotely not country and western. He was hard core, old-school country and western. I had tried to get him to listen to the Eagles or Charlie Daniels or Marshal Tucker Band. Nope. No way. No dice. Uh uhn.

But a song came on my Pandora station from Elton John,  from his early years. And it happened to remind me of a day when I was young, was still in high school. For whatever reason, my Dad was home in the middle of the afternoon. Down in our basement and he had the stereo on and he was listening to Elton John.

Maybe I had left the LP on the turntable. (My boyfriend at the time loved Elton John and gave me every album.) Maybe the tape was in the deck. Maybe someone else had been listening and left it playing. But there was my Dad – the self proclaimed hard core country and western fan singing along to Elton John. “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road”.

He hadn’t heard me, I was only a couple of steps down and still across the room from him. I sat there very quietly and watched him for a while. I think it was one of those times that he had really let his guard down and reached. Stood on the edge and stayed there a while. While I loved my Father already a LOT… I felt even more love for him that day. He opened up. He listened. He took a step out of the comfortable. He reached.

And today when that song played, I was suddenly transported back forty years to that dimly lit, wood paneled basement and the scratchy vinyl album watching my Dad singing along to Elton John.

It was an awesome day.

MacCupcake

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