My father introduced me to to Simon and Garfunkel when I was knee-high to a tadpole. I knew the words to "59th Street Bridge Song" before I'd learned the Pledge of Allegiance.

You have to admit, them there some damn fine harmonies.

The last few weeks, as the world has thawed and my life has spun around, I've been humming alot of Simon and Garfunkel. I've been remembering pigtails and my mom's dinners and the way my dad would burst through the front door - coat slung over his arm, keys jangling in his pocket.

I've been watching the forsythia bloom in my backyard and remembering the rows of forsythia that bloomed back then. Bright yellow branches in an almost-warm breeze.

How much of love is real? How much of it is wishing it were so? How much of life is a sheer force of will? How come we lose the ability to live in the moment as we grow older?

The birds fight over the straw, the chirp through my open window. Bear and I will look up what kind they are later.

We will rake, and seed. We will cook, side by side. CD will burst through the door, calling out that he's home. I will put on Simon and Garfunkel, and try to get them fed before Karate class. Our life is my son's memories, yet to be.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 05:21 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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