I've got silence on my radio, let the airwaves flow
Amazing how some songs can always transport you to one time and place regardless of when you listen to them. In this case, "Moonlight Mile" by the Rolling Stones will always remind me of crying myself to sleep during a campout on the Westbrooks' property when I was 16, in the summer of 2004. That summer was a rough one. I, to put it delicately, did not have much fun. The night was cold and rainy and I was laying on a damp sleeping bag on the edge of the creek, in a tent where I was not wanted. I was hardly wanted that entire season. I had one of the first iPods that were bulky and slow but I had Sticky Fingers on it. As we settled to sleep, I pressed "play" to hear the album's last song. I laid and listened to the song, with the plaintive strings and thudding, ethereal percussion. The tears came. As the other people in the tent wrestled and giggled with each other, I was pushed to the side with earbuds in both ears and tears streaming down my cheeks.
That was five years ago. Good lord. I've gotten much better at looking at my life from an outsider's perspective since then and the entire scenario, then, seems rather fitting; it was a snippet of the summer as a whole. I don't regret that it happened. I'm in so much of a better place now. "Moonlight Mile" is one of my favorite songs ever and the memory that I get from it is one of strength.
That was five years ago. Good lord. I've gotten much better at looking at my life from an outsider's perspective since then and the entire scenario, then, seems rather fitting; it was a snippet of the summer as a whole. I don't regret that it happened. I'm in so much of a better place now. "Moonlight Mile" is one of my favorite songs ever and the memory that I get from it is one of strength.