I went through a period in my life when I believed country music songs, especially the ones twanging on about love. Lost love, found love, misplaced love, angry love, miraculous love, love that makes you want to rip your clothes off and ......well, whatever. I felt so left out. At one point, I would have even settled for lost love since you've got to have it first before you misplace it.
The surprising part of all this is that I did all this yearning not very long ago in the scheme of my life. I guess I was so busy working myself to death during the time my daughter was growing up that my dreams were filled with exhausted sleep instead of all those lyrics in love songs. I remember having nightmares about all my teeth falling out because any dental care in my house was going to my daughter's braces. I certainly wasn't dreaming about dancing half-naked in the sand with a tall, muscled man offering me a glass of champagne and a lifetime of being taken care of. Sigh......
But I went through a few years in my 40s and early 50s when I asked, Where the heck is that beach, anyway? If I could only find it, all would be well, right? Well, I won't go into details about how that image was finally laid to rest, but suffice it to say that I dug a huge hole when I was slapped silly back into reality and I buried the darn thing.
I guess the lesson here is that we each take our own paths through life. There isn't a one size fits all template about where, and when, love fits. All I know is that when my eyes start to glaze over these days, I turn the radio off.
The surprising part of all this is that I did all this yearning not very long ago in the scheme of my life. I guess I was so busy working myself to death during the time my daughter was growing up that my dreams were filled with exhausted sleep instead of all those lyrics in love songs. I remember having nightmares about all my teeth falling out because any dental care in my house was going to my daughter's braces. I certainly wasn't dreaming about dancing half-naked in the sand with a tall, muscled man offering me a glass of champagne and a lifetime of being taken care of. Sigh......
But I went through a few years in my 40s and early 50s when I asked, Where the heck is that beach, anyway? If I could only find it, all would be well, right? Well, I won't go into details about how that image was finally laid to rest, but suffice it to say that I dug a huge hole when I was slapped silly back into reality and I buried the darn thing.
I guess the lesson here is that we each take our own paths through life. There isn't a one size fits all template about where, and when, love fits. All I know is that when my eyes start to glaze over these days, I turn the radio off.
To succeed in life, you need three things: a wishbone, a backbone and a funnybone.
Reba McEntire
I beg your pardon? Life never promised you a rose garden. Life is thorny at best. Stop being so prickly!
ReplyDeleteGoing down...to the Old Dog Saloon...
Boys and I...will howl at the moon...
Plenty liquor...lotsa guitar pickers...
Hey teacher...owe me goldstar stickers...
Weeping in my beer...at the Old Dog Saloon.
That's the point, Wyman! Country songs often DO promise the rose garden, although they certainly aren't the only ones.
ReplyDelete