A nostalgic throwback is best heard deeper into the evening. When dusk falls, so gloriously later in the daily run of the clock, it brings tales back to mind that may or may not have happened. In my childhood, the search for adventure or drama of any kind was a product of too many soap operas and an overactive imagination. Both were enough to sustain me through the summer, the former accompanied by fans, raspberry hard candies and Crystal Light iced tea – the latter inspired by songs that hinted at the love I was on the cusp of wanting.
Hold me, kiss me,Whisper sweetlyThat you love meForever.
I didn’t know then how lucky I was to be wanting for drama, to have to conjure and create mystery and intrigue and difficulty because nothing new seemed to be happening in my life. Such carefree days and nights are the province of youth, and largely wasted upon it.
And so I indulged in listening to songs that spoke of love and heartache and all the feelings I thought I wanted to experience first-hand. The romanticism and folly of being young… the almost-innocence of being a teenager somewhere between spring and summer…
Hold me, kiss me,Whisper sweetlyThat you love meForever.
