Let the cymbals fade.
Mick Jagger sees a red door and wants to paint it black. Don't we all, though?
I like symbolism.
When I was a kid, music was a big deal on my mom's side of the family. It often spoke for us when we couldn't, or didn't know how. There was music for getting together, catching up, and saying goodbye. Skiing had songs for the chairlift and tracks for looking good on the way down. We had music for reading books and music for special occasions.
But mostly we had music for long car rides.
My life's been full of those; long car rides. That's when time always seemed to stand still. The destinations didn't change all that much—my dad's house, my cousins' house, my grandparent's place in Vermont—even though my travel schedule varied a bit. Whether we were driving through falling leaves, piles of snow, or a coastal breeze, mom would always hit the back button after Sympathy For The Devil played. I always knew she'd look over and ask "again?"
The answer was always yes.
Music both covered the silence and created it. One of my cousins is older than me and the other's younger, but just barely. They fought like crazy back then. Picture black eyes, bloody lips, and too many boogers used as weapons. Naturally, it was my job to sit between them in the car, but my kiddo-sized barrier wasn't enough to stop them from attacking each other.
So those long car rides became a lecture series on classic rock.
In hindsight, it was the perfect distraction; it worked. And family gatherings turned into game shows... you'd prove yourself by answering,"No, Ronnie Wood wasn't in the Stones at first! He replaced Mick Taylor on guitar!!" before someone else could.
All these years later, I'm driving through Vermont, watching red and yellow leaves fall, and I want to turn time back. If I could figure out how it flashed forward like this, maybe I wouldn't cling to the hits and I could make room for new ones. But themes seem to emerge in life like levels in a video game—bound to repeat until you figure out how to get past them. The soundtrack is to help you cope while you do it.
When I see a red door and want to paint it black, it's because it distracts me.
It lets me hit replay, finding sympathy for the level before moving on.
Our Daily MAP Year Prompt
50/365
Think of a song you love. What chapter of your life is it from?
onward.
