Listen, Your Music is Still Playing
Where are your shoes
The scales dropped from my lids and I can see clearly now and the most overwhelming emotion is not one of relief, but of feeling cheated.
Those were the words from an old friend of mine. She felt cheated. I commiserated with my friend, — what was I to do? It’s not like she would have heard anything I said, anyway; she was all caught up in her unhappy emotions and memories of a life spent.
I did not dance when the music was playing; I did not sing even though I can barely carry a note. I was waiting to retirement, the end. That is what they told me. The benefits come at the end.
My friend, Justine went on and on as if glad for the platform; she mounted her soap box and had a royal blast from the past. She begin with her earliest childhood memories and continued to her present day.
I sat and squirmed. There was nothing to do but listen since I was the one who called her to ask how was she doing.
And she almost did me in with her tales of regret.
The line in that song, Regrets I’ve had a few, was not penned with her in mind. Regrets, she had plenty.
I listened, hoping that she would soon run out of steam. I could not very well tell her, ooops I have something to do, or there is another call on the line since she would just pick up from where she left off the next time we speak.
I suffered through it — every arduous minute, until I began hearing the faint chords of music in the distance. I cocked my ear as the music grew louder.
The playing might have been in my head but it was a message for my friend, to say to her, Justine, stop and listen. Your music is still playing, where are your shoes?