Music is Personal

“Without music, life would be a mistake.” 
– Friedrich Nietzsche

I remember

nights towards the end of summer,
we blast Fleetwood Mac out of 
big stereo speakers and 
dance around the coffee table while 
singing along at the top of our lungs.
All the sliding glass doors are be open and 
for that moment
it feels like summer will never end.

We made playlists.
It was my idea.
He told me he was great at making mix CDs
back in the day
so naturally I asked for one.
He agreed only if
I made one for him.
This was on my way to the airport.

I’m freaking out a little
because music is personal.
Sharing music is intimate.
What if he doesn’t like it?

But once I started,
it became fun.
I had my playlist finished by the time I landed.

Suddenly, those old songs 
meant new things.
The songs from the year we made that first bet,
the bet he lost.
Although, I think in the end 
we both won.

Both playlists ended with the same song.
Coincidence?
No such thing.
Modern romance.
We have a problem.
You’re sneaking into my space.
The space that I spent these last 80 days reclaiming.
But I like having you there.
I want you to be there
and that terrifies me.
Because what does that mean?

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