The other night I decided to make a quick trip to the store. When I got in the Jeep as usual, I turned on our local NPR station. World Cafe was on and my timing couldn't have been more perfect. They began to speak of my beloved Jeff Buckley and for the first time in many many years I got a chance to listen to "Last Goodbye" on the radio. Its these moments that remind me of the magic of radio. Or at the very least the magic that it used to have; those hours spent just hoping to hear your favorite song. Strange as it may seem, it holds a different power for me hearing the song as part of a radio show rather than it being in rotation on my mp3 player. Driving through my beautiful new town, the stars bright, this song filled me with the very specific and magical memories attached to it. I also felt that familiar ache that so many Jeff Buckley fans feel, that ache for what could have been. But also gratitude, that the world was lucky enough to experience his gifts however brief that moment may have been.
Coming over the hill and into the parking lot, the next song began to play...
I have so many Pearl Jam favorites but this one... it absolutely haunts me. I couldn't move, I sat there in my Jeep, looking at the mountains and that incredible starry sky. I felt, and I say this with big weepy eyes, I felt such joy, such happiness, absolute bliss. It's important to mention that for quite awhile now my happiness has come from my roles as a mother, a wife, a friend. And it doesn't make them less genuine or fantastic. But its been so long since I've felt this stir, these emotions rise up from a place devoid of those roles. I've missed it. And I promise to do everything I can to stoke this fire. And maybe just maybe, figure out how I can bring this bliss to Franny the mother, Franny the wife, and Franny the friend.
How to plan your perfect reading retreat
3 weeks ago
