Trucks are prohibited...but you are always welcome

Sunday, October 28, 2012

twenty something

I started writing a song about how hard it is to be in the 20s... that space in between what you were and what you will be.
The song slowly wrote itself, painting a picture of frustrations of your dream-adulthood meeting your real-adulthood with an awkward hand-shake, until the last verse... and then nothing. Block. Where does it go? How does it resolve?
So I wrote and re-wrote, but the emotions that drove the first half fell short because the conflict, like the song, had no resolution just yet.
Then, as I looked out at the leaves that I've slowly watched turn from green to red to brown, playing the chords with no words over and over, I was struck with the terrifying nature of growing old. What makes these transitions, these seasons, less terrifying? And slowly the lyrics came. A picture came forward of two hands clasped, standing on a train platform. And the destination of the train didn't matter, the length of the ride didn't matter as long as those two hands remained. It's love, isn't it? Love and living for someone else, that's what takes all the fear away.
And I tried SO hard to not write another love song.

No comments:

Post a Comment