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Gimmicks
Friday, August 30, 2002
I feel quite apprehensive about going out for the next few days, especially with K. Something really strange happened today that, for lack of a better explanation, has forewarned about approaching bad karma. I hate when my mental skeletons manage to pick the locks in the crowded, dark and dismal closet I have provided them rentfree.
K and I went shopping today for the last of her school needs. While erranding, we bopped into WalMart for laundry detergent (me) and socks (her.) As I browsed the bead aisle, a song suddenly started blaring from the neighboring electronic area. It startled me, not just the loud volume, but the fact that the song was just beginning.
It was a song that long ago, made me smile. A song that he dedicated to me. A song I hadn't heard for 12 years. I listened while bittersweet memories of the man with red hair flooded back. When it ended, I shrugged them away.
Not even 30 minutes later, as we headed to Meijer, a song came on the radio. My heart must have skipped a beat. "Lady in Red," by Chris DeBurgh, played while my stomach churned thinking back to the man with red hair. It's really not uncommon to hear the tune, and typically, I never give it much thought.
Today was different. That had been "our song." Coupled with just hearing, "Chantilly Lace," that trip down memory lane still has me feeling uneasy.
And I take my unsettling feelings very seriously. They have proved themselves at the strangest times, like when I once called R at work about 11 p.m. and found out he had just been seriously injured and rushed to the ER (they weren't even out of the driveway when I rang.) Like my fear of May for accidents. Like the time I HAD to go down a certain road to see my brother and ended up discovering where my parents had moved. Like so many other peculiar occurences in my life, my locked-away mental skeletons act as warning.
Of course, it probably is just a freak coincidence. Or so my skeletons are whispering. Sunshine - Walking on Sunshine -
8/30/2002 11:44:00 PM
