Softer Than a Summer’s Night

So. I just realized my last post is titled “Strides,” and now I remember what its point should have been. I need to remember to title posts after I finish them.

Even though it’s been more than three years, I’ve only been able to listen to The Drifters without any odd twinges within the last month or so. “This Magic Moment” was particularly difficult to hear. It used to be on a CD he gave me for our first Valentine’s Day together and I couldn’t help thinking of him every time it played.

A few weeks ago, the boss put The Drifters into the store’s music rotation. Instead of cringing, I found myself softly singing along. When “This Magic Moment” came on, I was able to enjoy it as just a good song. All of the negative feelings associated with it had disappeared. I was very pleased and copied my boss’ CD for my iPod. Now I’m listening to The Drifters almost every time I’m on BART or the bus.

I rarely think about that part of my past anymore, and if I do it never gets much of a rise out of me. I suppose that’s progress. I recently read a book in which Elie Wiesel’s quote, “The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference,” was a constant refrain. A little too tidy to be realistic, but it’s fairly apt in this case.

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