A little voice inside my head said
Don't look back, you can never look back
I thought I knew what love was
What did I know?
Those days are gone forever
I should just let 'em go
When I was young, Don Henley was one of the most sophisticated, perpetually-jilted men in existence. When I was thirteen Boys of Summer appeared on the radio. A nod to fairweather romances, seasonal change and growth, Don sang it like it was.
I loved that song. Still do. Even the covers of it. The Ataris did a great one sixteen years ago, when Henry was in diapers and maybe Ruth was barely out of them. It's a vibe, that song. It's a song that takes on a completely different meaning from a happy go lucky summer song when you're young to a lament for times gone by. For longing. For Don Henley's weathered broken heart and for mine too.
This morning the lines I've copied above serve as a warning to heed the past but focus on the future. Thank you, Don, you always have my back. I'd have yours but honestly I have enough problematic men in my life at present.
Take this one, for example. The one in the dark suit and shirt, with the flashing medium blues, handsomely devastated by my words yesterday (they read. Why do they read?) and suddenly keenly, painfully aware that Cole's anniversary has crept up on us, tapping us on the shoulder only to have us turn around to get punched right in the face by it. By time. By history. By Cole's massive legacy that leaves us all wondering how he went so off the rails.
I listen to them when they say that. I write it down. I absorb it and nod along, agreeing with it even as I knew Cole as something vastly different. He was always cruel and violent. Always difficult. Always setting me up and tearing me down. Always making me wonder which side of him I would see, and then surprising me by changing it up constantly. He was oddly easy to love. Easy-going. Easy on the eyes. And he made it easy to fall in love with anyone, everyone else right in front of him. Worst of all he made it easy to shove Lochlan to the side, as Lochlan has his back, brothers until death.
Then death happened, Lochlan found out that Cole was the same kind of brother Caleb had been to him and the world tilted on one axis, leaving us hanging in outer space. In the dark, cold, silent space. No radios here.
Cole's legacy isn't what he hoped.
It's okay. Is anyone's? I doubt it. The way you think you'll be remembered is never how it actually turns out. It's akin to taking a beautiful picture of the moon. You wind up with a fuzzy, unfocused recollection of such a beautiful sight. You wind up wondering if it was all that or maybe you were just bewitched. Charmed.
And Cole had exactly an eighth of the charm Caleb carries on any given day, doling it out like gifts from a benevolent God. Exactly what we want, perfect fit. Right color and everything. God help my soul, he sniffs around it like a rabid dog.
He did love you, Bridget. Don't let what happened at the end change that for you.
I haven't. Oh, trust me. I haven't. I need that reminder like I need another hole in my head. Cole was the one who saved my life when Lochlan broke my little heart into tarnished and blackened teenage pieces. Cole painstakingly put it back together again and then broke it for kicks all over again, just to see what would happen, under his brother's guidance. He should have heeded their warnings. He should have seen it coming.
Thirteen years out from under his rule, his intense, private cruelty, his outward insanity and charisma and I am still learning not to let them hurt me so much. Don's helping, for every time I get sucked into Caleb's charm now the radio dial spins like it's possessed until it finds a station playing that song and I am reminded why I went running back to Lochlan for good, whether he wants me or not.
I loved that song. Still do. Even the covers of it. The Ataris did a great one sixteen years ago, when Henry was in diapers and maybe Ruth was barely out of them. It's a vibe, that song. It's a song that takes on a completely different meaning from a happy go lucky summer song when you're young to a lament for times gone by. For longing. For Don Henley's weathered broken heart and for mine too.
This morning the lines I've copied above serve as a warning to heed the past but focus on the future. Thank you, Don, you always have my back. I'd have yours but honestly I have enough problematic men in my life at present.
Take this one, for example. The one in the dark suit and shirt, with the flashing medium blues, handsomely devastated by my words yesterday (they read. Why do they read?) and suddenly keenly, painfully aware that Cole's anniversary has crept up on us, tapping us on the shoulder only to have us turn around to get punched right in the face by it. By time. By history. By Cole's massive legacy that leaves us all wondering how he went so off the rails.
I listen to them when they say that. I write it down. I absorb it and nod along, agreeing with it even as I knew Cole as something vastly different. He was always cruel and violent. Always difficult. Always setting me up and tearing me down. Always making me wonder which side of him I would see, and then surprising me by changing it up constantly. He was oddly easy to love. Easy-going. Easy on the eyes. And he made it easy to fall in love with anyone, everyone else right in front of him. Worst of all he made it easy to shove Lochlan to the side, as Lochlan has his back, brothers until death.
Then death happened, Lochlan found out that Cole was the same kind of brother Caleb had been to him and the world tilted on one axis, leaving us hanging in outer space. In the dark, cold, silent space. No radios here.
Cole's legacy isn't what he hoped.
It's okay. Is anyone's? I doubt it. The way you think you'll be remembered is never how it actually turns out. It's akin to taking a beautiful picture of the moon. You wind up with a fuzzy, unfocused recollection of such a beautiful sight. You wind up wondering if it was all that or maybe you were just bewitched. Charmed.
And Cole had exactly an eighth of the charm Caleb carries on any given day, doling it out like gifts from a benevolent God. Exactly what we want, perfect fit. Right color and everything. God help my soul, he sniffs around it like a rabid dog.
He did love you, Bridget. Don't let what happened at the end change that for you.
I haven't. Oh, trust me. I haven't. I need that reminder like I need another hole in my head. Cole was the one who saved my life when Lochlan broke my little heart into tarnished and blackened teenage pieces. Cole painstakingly put it back together again and then broke it for kicks all over again, just to see what would happen, under his brother's guidance. He should have heeded their warnings. He should have seen it coming.
Thirteen years out from under his rule, his intense, private cruelty, his outward insanity and charisma and I am still learning not to let them hurt me so much. Don's helping, for every time I get sucked into Caleb's charm now the radio dial spins like it's possessed until it finds a station playing that song and I am reminded why I went running back to Lochlan for good, whether he wants me or not.