Dancing in the Sunlight

The first time I was in the car with my sister and a song came on that reminded her of an ex-boyfriend and she snapped the radio off with a vengeance I thought she was crazy.

“It’s just a song.” I said.

“It reminds me of him and I don’t want to hear it.” she said in a voice that left no room for debate.

Okay… Crazy. I thought. How can a song make you feel so bad? Its just a song. And one I like and wanted to listen to! Hmmph!

Over the years this same thing has happened countless times with other people with varying degrees of passion. Friends leaving the dance floor when “their song” of a “their” they were no longer a part of played. Hastily changed radio stations when the wrong song came on were common post-break-up. And polite requests to skip that track on the CD were honored with little grumbling.

And I never got it.

I’d never felt a need to change the song as a result of memories attached to it. Actually, I always loved how songs could take you back instantly to a different place, in another time, with other people.

That was until Wagon Wheel rolled into my life. It was New Year’s Eve and I spent the night dancing to OCMS and Sundy Best with someone who over the course of a year became more important to me than I realized until they were gone.

And try as I might I couldn’t listen to one of my favorite songs, because as soon as I heard it, I was back dancing around a room in their arms, or laying on a beach holding their hand, or cuddled up talking about the way we saw the world.

And it was painful.

It felt like I was being smothered, until I managed to hit the skip button.

And I hated myself for being so weak. For needing to skip the song and escape the memories. I wanted to be able to remember the moments that were perfect, and lovely. I didn’t want to feel sad, or miffed, or rejected when I heard a song that always before had inspired dancing.

Then one day a great thing happened.

I was walking down the boardwalk with two friends in Pacific Beach and a street performer started playing Wagon Wheel.

And I didn’t stick my fingers in my ears and run. Instead, I grabbed my friends hands and we danced. We danced in the sunlight to a song that before had shrouded me in darkness. I made a new memory. A better memory.

Sometimes we have to sit in the dark before we can dance in the sunlight.

Dancing on the PB Boardwalk to Wagon Wheel. ❤