A Month in Song

As time goes by, Herself finds that she is less and less attached to Things. As a youngster, and as a younger woman, Certain Items would hold particular sentimental weight for her. Even now, some objects still do: the baby sling she used to carry all three Offspring, for example, will always be of inestimable worth to her. There are fewer and fewer Things, though, that carry weight with Herself; it is the people in her life about whom she feels most sentimental, and to whom she feels most attached.

There is, however, one current object of which Herself is quite fond: her iPod. A gift from her Beloved, it travels everywhere with her, and she uses it while exercising; while driving, plugged into the car; while cooking, doing laundry, mopping, tidying, or performing other chores; and even in the wee hours of the night, if she cannot sleep. It allows her to listen to the same music over and over and over and over, should she so desire. (One of Herself’s most Asperger’s-like traits is her singular interest in particular songs.) It provides the soundtrack for her life.

In honor of the iPod, this month’s entries will be dedicated to certain songs and their meanings for Herself.

Today’s song is one that was mentioned previously. Ben Harper: Amen, Omen. It is a song of love and loss, and when she listens to it, Herself thinks of her friends, and how her heart has grown from their presence in her life, and how bereft she would be without them.