Monday, March 14, 2011
As the scene comes into view I am looking down at my small feet, they are tan, bare. It must be summer. Carly Simon's No Secrets was released in 1972, so I am 4 years old. We are in our new home, a bungalow in a tidy little neighborhood with tree lined streets and small square lawns. We are still a family.
There are women in my living room, they are young, slim, and tan. Yes, it's definitely summer. They are whispering and giggling, about me. Mom wants to know what it is about this Carly song that brings me to tears. I don't want to discuss it, it's too hard. She's enlisted their help. Mom rests the needle and it begins. They all look at me. They are a little worried, but also find my quivering lip adorable. Mom stops the music and they question me. I'm silent. These are my feelings and I don't want to share them.
I quietly think of Grandpa. The lyrics speak of someone named Robin and Carly sings until we're old. The music is sad and haunting, but draws me in with its beauty. I imagine Robin has died or will die soon. Getting old means dying and I don't like it, I don't like it at all. Grandpa is the only person I know with grey hair. I know he is old. My other grandpa is already gone and I fear this one is going to go too. I don't want him to go. We belong together, we always have. He takes me to the park. He soft boils eggs for me, places them on toast, and cuts the toast into little squares. He understands me and never asks for more than I can give.