Remember me to a true love of mine

Living with short term memory loss is no fun.  But it happens.  Mine is situational and occasional. Bill's is constant. 

I'd almost forgotten about this song. Always one of my favorites. I have almost forgotten much of the early 1960s which was such a formative time in my life and in the life of the United States. The civil rights movement was highlighted by the folk singers who shined a light on the atrocities of discrimination.  Bob Dylan and Joan Baez in the forefront.

I do remember my father's love of Johnny Cash and his music and my continued loved of Dylan and his music. This young Bob Dylan is so interesting. He had a clear, smooth voice.  What happened to that?  I guess life and age, as with all of us, got into him.   It is one of the joys of You Tube and Blogging, that lead us to these lost treasures deep in our memories.  

Where is the north country I wonder. I have lived in the north country of California, the north county of New York, the north country of Colorado.  Memories of younger days, voices untouched by life, fingers on guitar strings dreaming of new music as they move.  

Life someone gets in our way, moves us along, and pulls us in new directions.  Just sitting tonight, getting a foothold after a long, long week of caring for someone I love, who has had it worse than me.  But with cabin fever, and a snow storm heading in our direction, we ventured out after the doctor, after the pharmacy.  Bill said, I need to get out of that house!  So stopped for a late afternoon lunch and ate Mediterranean food and listened to music that any belly dancer would appreciate. 

The potted plants were all in striped and colorfully painted pots.  I felt as though Martha Stewart had decorated this restaurant. We were alone in the small dining room with the sun streaming through the windows, cell phone on the table, waiting for doctor calls that never came.   

On the other side of the glass and brass divided wall, I spotted what I could only call a tom-tom.  A drum that my son would love to have. Burled and polished dark wood, and a tight light skin. I don't think it was for sale.  It felt good to be two people out for lunch, alone, remembering that he once was a true love of mine.  I don't think most people really understands this.  But I miss Bill.  Fortunately, he knows exactly what it means. The hope we have that as he has slipped further away this week, he will return soon, closer than ever. 

Today is one way I will remember him best.