He loved Jackson Browne. His favorite line from “Running on Empty” was “I don’t know when that road turned onto the road I’m on.”
“Someday you’ll see how it’s weird,” he explained to me, “to look back and remember what was and how it all suddenly became what is, although you’re not sure when it happened.”
It seemed like we heard that song everywhere. We heard it at the bar on our first date, months later on the way to the beach, at our first baseball game together and almost every Saturday at the grocery store.
I also heard it on the morning of his funeral, which I thought was some kind of cruel joke. And the next day. And two years later, it’s still everywhere.
I can hear the way he sang that one line under his breath and it haunts me, but not necessarily in a bad way. It’s one of my reminders. It’s just one of those things reminding me to live and make this all worthwhile, even if I have trouble listening to more than 30 seconds of it.
That 30 seconds is enough, and just as I feel the tears welling up, I turn the station and take a deep breath.
Hug people today, folks. Hard, and often.