Sunday, January 13, 2019

Roy Orbison "She's a Mystery to Me"

She was no mystery to me. I used to speak her language. I understood every decision whether it be ill-advised or not. Nothing truly surprised me about her. Even if she did something that caught me off-guard, I'd reflect on it, shrug and nod my head once her motive crystallized. I felt privileged and special because I *got* her in every sense of the word.

One day, I lost her. In reality, we lost each other. Our time had expired. We drove carelessly in a car purposed with four bald tires and the low-fuel light illuminated en route to a destination neither desired. When it was done, cleansing was painful. With every scrub, the abrasive pain radiated. Within minutes, all was lost. Physical memories, mementos and proof of what was once real...was now gone.

Like any athlete or musician who once excelled at something, I've lost knowledge of our vocabulary. It no longer comes easy to me. I ask for definitions, for spellings, for help when I can't translate. Even then, it doesn't make sense. I suppose it's not a bad thing, but rather is a mystery.