Please Let me wrap you in my dark Stipple stars on my skin Let me hoard you in my heart Please, please, please Don’t let me fall to fear Separate the salt And quench your thirst in my tears I, need you And in the absence of light You’re the candle glow that keeps us From creatures of the night So, pleeeeasseeee Pierce constellations through my skin Baby let me fracture This is my reckoning Please, please, please, please, please, please Be brave, be sweet, be strong Don’t let my madness take you Please hold me all night long I, need you And in the absence of light I need your heart to save us ‘Cause we’re creatures of the night Please
I never really believed in permanent relationships until I met my in-laws. Even when I agreed to marry my husband, I still expected that one day he would want a get out of jail free card, and that would be it. There would be no more completion and love, no more hold me tight and hold me near, just me. Always, in the back of my mind, I told myself the lie that I would be ready to be left behind.
My mother-in-law began her struggle with that damnable c*** cancer soon after my husband and I met. It was one of the things that linked us -- the risk of losing a mother. We held each other fast against this darkness, and, miraculously, our mothers survived. Changed, certainly, but cherished and needed.
Two years ago, though, my mother-in-law finally succumbed to forces greater than her will and death found her. The devastation of her loss was profound. For us, certainly, but most profound for her husband of over 50 years. Watching my father-in-law be halved so suddenly ripped apart my own heart, and I know that he is a mighty, brave soul to be able to withstand that emptiness.
In any case, one year later, we were back in Knoxville to love him more closely. He had met a new friend, a woman who clearly had designs on his affections, and while I was happy he was not completely alone, the spark that made my in-laws more than the sum of the parts was missing.
So after dinner, while the kids were chasing ducks down by the river and my husband was making nice with the new person and my father-in-law was looking lost, I sat in the car to catch my breath and write down this song.
Cynthia is a 50 something mom to 2 talkative, creative, whirling dervishes. They're not feral. Honest. Just homeschooled. In her free time, Cynthia enjoys being a hot mess whose neuroticism makes excellent song and story fodder.