I have been missing you lately. The long nights we would stay up and you would play classic rock music. You had that 90’s “state of the art” stereo and sound system, the one you had since I was a little kid. You probably still do.
You pulled out record after record, filled up the six-disk changer. Quizzing me on each song, “Who sings this, what is the name of the song, do you know the year?”
I filled up my head, fact after fact, we worshiped these bands, note after note. I stored up the tunes and the words, as if they were my Gods. I could name them all, Poison, Whitesnake, Guns and Roses, CCR, Electric Light Orchestra, Bad Company.
I loved 4-non blondes, unskinny bop, cherry pie from Warrant. You’d play sweet child of mine and sing it in your awful, tone deaf voice, and I thought that you were singing it to me, and that you loved me.
I played them in my head as I walked to school, in my first stereo you bought me with my own 5 disk changer, loud enough to annoy my mom, in my compact disk player on the bus. I repeated them like a prayer, recited them as beads on a rosary.
We’d stay up late in the summer, you’d barbecue and blast music. The smell of charcoal filled the air, the sound of Queen permeated the night sky. I’d be so tired but I’d stay awake as long as you did so that I could spend that time with you. It felt special, like it was our time.
I still have a knack for it you know? I can name most songs, old and new. I remember lyrics like prayers to this day. I can remember songs after hearing them only two or three times. I know them even after years of not hearing them. I remember artists, I remember songs, I remember beats, and notes, and rhythms. They ring in my head day after day. Sometimes they bring me back and I am happy. Sometimes they bring me back and I am sad. But always they bring me back.