I couldn’t
get the tune out of my head.
Then the
whistling started.
But, what
were the lyrics?
How would I
find this song in my collection?
I knew the
genre, right?
60’s rock.
Chirpy intro, overall depressing theme.
To whom
could I call and attempt a rendition?
Who would understand
the strangled warble over the patchy cell service?
Unfortunately
the only one who came to mind who could manage the task wasn’t a viable option.
It seems to
go, that you’d consider other failures and false starts in times like these.
It
triggered, too, another memory that once I’d had another person, who could take
a 30 second phone call and manage a tune to match my memory.
Mistakes made today:
◦ Waiting
until the last minute to buy bread. Slim pickings limited to white loaf.
◦ Arriving on
time to combi. (Which is two hours late, in my book.) Waited two hours more for
repairs.
◦ Leaving my
green Coach in the combi. Contents included, but not limited to: my passport,
American VISA, Namibian ATM card, all remaining VICA for the month, my MTC Netman
dongle, last mint Blistex from stash, new neon-pink alpaca-knitted parrot
finger-puppet, lock and key earrings.
◦ Bungling traditional
Ruk greeting in haste to find combi, in effect, was rude to best friend’s mother,
Clementine.
◦ Opening my email.
Wonders experienced today:
◦ Overabundance
of brie in the dairy aisle.
◦ Lone giraffe
loping ahead of our combi in the full moon.
◦ Best friend
Em, and cousin, Kavax, (also our combi driver) having already dropped off my
purse back at my home, even as I was setting off under the night sky on the hunt in the
general direction of the rukanda (location).
◦ Managing to
remember the opening lyrics. Finding the tune on google. Finding it in the
ranks in my zune.
◦ Not having
to make a call to the south, because, it would have driven me mad, not knowing.
◦ Appreciating
the irony of the song, the recall, and the trigger. |
| a rock, an island | Clear quartz found near Botswana, one breezy winter morning, last year. |