The song says life is a relentless struggle and I remember the days when we didn’t have change for the swimming pool and it’s true, like that other song says, “I like toast as much as anyone but not for breakfast dinner and tea.” With my dad between work, between wives and myself between parents, between broken homes and broken noses and hands in casts from breaking knuckles standing my ground as the new kid, our sometimes empty cupboards then remind me of days like today when many struggle to meet the every day paycheck to paycheck realities of this first generation that George Strombo predicts will not see a better lifestyle than their parents.
The times when my dad told me there was more seem like a day-dream in my little boy eyes like the day they came back from Florida with a sea shell the size of my head that looked like it came straight out of the Swiss Family Robinson. I remember hacking the point off to see if it would make that cool conch-shell noise the older brother made to signal the next tropical storm, pirate arrival or black panther attack…what was his name? Hans? (Not Joking, I think it was Hans…and no, I’m not going to Google it.) With that in mind, having a house with heat and roof over our heads and the occasional boil water advisory was not so bad.
Seriously though…and you can take that for what it is…from the time I can remember the girls in kindergarten chasing me for a kiss around the grassy park that doubled as a hockey rink in the winter I can’t remember a time when a pretty girl couldn’t steal me away from the rest of this troubled world. Yes, even the dark-haired girl with the curl who stole me away today with her hazel eyes in the moments before the train doors opened at my stop after a morning I would rather forget. You take me there my love.
You take me away…you always have…when I need to go there most. When I need to escape in the spaces between myself and the mirror that reminds me I see you there and breath and fall in love, and forget.