long lost

I loved her back then. She was creative and joyful, full of glee and some deeper sadness. Our visits were something I always anticipated with a happy heart. We traded mixed tapes and whispered our future dreams to each other in the darkness of her bedroom.

Twenty-seven years have passed and I never expected to feel so connected – so re-connected – from the moment she waved at me across the hotel driveway.

You would think that after all those years and all those lives lived, places traveled, heartaches, and heartfelt experiences, we wouldn’t recognize each other. But there she was in all of her … her-ness. The same girl I knew during our oh-so-formative years was standing there, motioning at me to get into her car.

There were extra lines on her face – twenty-seven years has a way of doing that to our bodies, but she was there, creative and joyful, full of glee and lacking that dark undercurrent.

Oh, how wonderful to hear her stories of the past two plus decades! How comfortable it felt to wrap my arms around her in a familiar bear hug! In those moments, we were 16 again, connected and re-connected in a lovely Kansas City summer night.

caterwauling

My dad had a terrible singing voice.
He not only admitted it, but I think was a little proud of how bad he was.

One of our favorite activities to do together was sing. We had a repertoire of mostly Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, and the Beach Boys.

On our better days, we would do really horrible harmonies and scare anyone who was within hearing distance – which was often, since we had a tendency to sing at the top of our lungs in public places, like while waiting for the elevator in his condo building, or when walking down the sidewalk in front of a cafe.

We especially liked to sing the Beatles “Yesterday.” I think because it has the odd notes and is actually a rather difficult song to do well. Whatever the more difficult path, we tended to wander down it.

As the eighth anniversary of my dad’s death approaches (April 9th), my thoughts have been increasingly of him.

This morning, I woke up with one of his favorite songs in my head and was missing our off-harmonic caterwauling.