My Abbey Road

Did you ever have one of those days when you can't help but think about someone from the past? Today's one of those days. It used to take a lot more for these sirens to sound; the way a word is spoken, a product on a shelf. But now, thanks to facebook, yesterday's recollection is merely news on the feed. It lies in a chain of other updates and amendments. And it's odd just to think any of those other updates might spark the heart of someone else. There are people who de-friend. But that isn't me. De-friend, to me, can be as loud as hate. What a curiously uncomfortable thought to think that someone could hurt me so badly that I might expel them from every last wire and list. Of course I haven't been hurt as such, and thus cannot cast shame on those who have. So for now, all I can say, is I hope I never have to.

But this person - they're haunting me. It's not that I feel the way I once did (or didn't, ironically). It's simply that they're crossing my mind. And for some reason my red halting hand has flashed away to a waltzing white figure, shouting for this person to come to the other side. And just like Abbey Road, they're frozen in place - the cover of today's album. And in this billboard-charting moment, forcing that person to reach the other side appears to be as impossible as forgetting "Come Together." I suppose, in this case, that it's not about forgetting.

Maybe it's about listening. Maybe it's about hearing what they have to say. Seeing their status, feeling my reaction. Maybe it’s about that.

I'll let this record play till you cross my mind. And if it never stops, perhaps I'll walk it with you.