Colorado sunlight, sweet Corvallis rain
Birthday cake candle light—the song remains the same.
—Led Zeppelin, The Song Remains the Same
(lyrics altered for my own purposes)
It was to be a celebratory weekend: T~ and I closed on our new house and received the keys on Friday, and all but one of four siblings and three of of seven grandchildren arrived to throw T~’s mother an eightieth birthday party.
It wasn’t happy.
I love dissonance, ‘cause I love the blues, but when a ditty goes asunder, and the pieces cannot be reworked into a whole composition… well… song over.
T~ tried to be excited as we held up paint swatches on the living room and kitchen walls of the new house this evening. We even thought about christening the new place right then and there, in the middle of the empty master bedroom.
It wasn’t happening.
Eyes that cry from late at night until early in the morning cast a gray tint on even the hottest reds and the brightest teals. The matriarch’s ambush the previous night made sure that a salmon couldn’t get wet in a flood.
Even dogs went astray.
T~ and I returned to the house we’re renting for another week and found our male Chihuahua curled up on the comforter of the unmade bed where the matriarch had slept the past month. Seventeen hours after the old lady’s abrupt departure, our little man was still mourning the loss of his newfound friend. He liked being a royal pet.
More tears, and a call to a sister.
But time wounds all heels, and when the shoe finally retreads its proper footing, the world might get back to normalcy… though I’m sure some parts of the song will not remain the same.