The opening credits of the sequel to my Australia trip are rolling. It's four years later, and I am Robin Williams in Hook; a protagonist who settled down and forgot who he was. Viewers tuning in are shocked at what became of their hero.
This morning, I woke up as my normal self, and life had the same feel it has had this past year. Routine has a way of sneaking up on you. I've been working in the same offices, and getting up at the same time. I've been logging into the same computer. I've been seeing the same faces. Eventually the short term becomes the long term.
Afternoon arrived because it does that, and I flicked through the tracks on my rediscovered 160GB iPod classic. The iPod was a gift from a lover in that past life; something that crosses the back of my mind whenever I use it, but isn't always to the fore. Today, I stumbled onto a track that has long reminded me of her.
I don't listen to it often, because every time I do, I savour it. I don't want anything to wash away the memories wrapped up in the song. It was the last day I saw her, and I blared the track on the sound system in her bedroom as she walked down the garden, got into her car, and drove away.
She had to go to work early, and our goodbyes had taken a the whole night. I didn't have to leave for a few hours, so I lay in her bed for a while and I stared at the roof. I didn't think about anything. I just lay there.
In my memory, that scene fades out, and the next one picks up weeks later.
And now I am here, and that was a lifetime ago. Memories gathered dust. Others were made and themselves faded. Cities of love were built and fell into ruin. My heart became fodder for archaeologists.
Then this afternoon I found the song and it was like drinking a glass of who I used to be. Colour poured back into my mind and words back into my heart.
And now I am here. On the cusp of a new adventure.
A new wind blows an old song.
