the trapeze swinger.

hey mama.
i've been listening to this song "the trapeze swinger" alot. 6 times today in fact. it makes me think of you so much that sometimes i play it on repeat for an hour. its 8 minutes long, so its only like 7 times or something, but still. i never listened to this song with you, i don't believe, and yet it fills my heart with a nearness to you. i won't pretend to know what Sam Beam was thinking when he wrote this song, but i will tell you what it means to me. he's lost someone. someone dear. and the whole song is a recollection of seemingly trivial memories. the thing is, these memories mean so much to him. the song is a gentle plea to remember the small things they enjoyed together.
that's how i feel mama. my brain and soul are flooding with memories, some complete, and some in fragments. but they're mine.
the memory i've been piecing together today, is from way back when you worked at office max (or staples, or office depot, or whatever it was called then) and i was probably 5? dad and i came to pick you up pretty late at night and you got in the car holding a box, containing a tiny finch that you had become determined to save. the only other thing i remember is looking at that cute tiny bird with you and knowing you were right. we had to rescue it. i don't remember what happened next, or even if the bird lived or died. i'm sure that if i asked dad, he might be able to help me complete this memory, but then it wouldn't be mine. and i want to keep this one all mine. i want to hang on to every last memory.
mama, i don't know if you have a record player in heaven, or if you can even access music from my world. but if you can, grab iron and wine's record and listen to "the trapeze swinger" with me.
all my love.