Stories In My Pocket

When memories mix with music, they can create an explosive concoction of emotions. They become a potion to transport us from faded to vivid, from far away to yesterday.

So when I heard the words of this Sarah Masen song, I smelled the worn out cardboard as we packed up the last of our meager belongings, the intrusive scent of bleach as we sanitized the floor at the expense of the skin on our knuckles.

When I heard this melody emerge after years in a dusty case, I felt again the ache of being inconsequential, a binder-stuffer and pallet-mover, the wife of an airman first class. I felt my hopes flickering, falling almost to embers under the stifling judgment based on where we were and not where we might be if only someone would come along to stoke.

Stories in my Pocket
-by Sarah Masen
Monday's got us running to our knees again
It seems we're always waiting on the floor
Our destination Sunday is full of the unknown
But we're building our own bridges to the shore
In hopes for so much more
Silent eyes are watching, we're beginning to explore
But the lights are growing dim because we are poor
Isn't this the place we're practicing belief
Seems we're always looking at the door
In hopes for so much more

And the stories in my pockets are the best I've ever lived

So what if they don't sell sell sell

I'll take you out for coffee and we'll talk about D.C.
And Philly underneath October moons

Fall is walking us into a cold December wind
And maybe we won't last too long.
But maybe we will make it to play a brave new song
Mixing up the failure with the new
In hopes for something true

And the paintings on the walls here are the best we've ever done
An experiment in abstract dreams
And the colors are colliding in strange redemptive hues
What we got here is a good slow burn
What we got here is a good true thing
A good true thing, a good true thing


When I listened to this song again with older ears, I heard it entirely new. I am no longer that windblown waif struggling to find one confident, forward place to plant my foot. I have taken many, many steps since then, and though not always forward, I have moved. As I sang along with Sarah, I stumbled upon a smiling realization. I have stories in my pockets. Lots of 'em. And so what if they don't sell, sell, sell?

I've decided to lend these stories words in hopes they will pay me back in the "redemptive hues" of self-discovery and in the catharsis of remembrance. I owe them that at least, since, did I mention, they're the best I've ever lived?

If you've been around here for a while, you know that I toggle randomly between melodramatic melancholy (the way of the lovely Anne Shirley), self-effacing sarcasm and sappy mommy whimsy. So the fact that I introduced this Stories In My Pocket series Anne-Shirley-style by no means indicates that we'll be all serious and no silly. There will be plenty of cowbell. Trust me.

So here's the plan. I'm going to post stories from my pocket every Saturday (give or take a week). I'll set up Mister Linky so I can look like a loser when no one joins in you can join me in sharing your nostalgic, funny, melancholy, deep, bizarre or silly stories from the days of yore. (Or just of yesterday....Really, as long as it happened already, it fits in this series).

So consider joining me, will you? If you're an aspiring writer, just looking for practice, then join me. If you're a sappy mom, just looking to remember, then join me. If you're a big time blogger, just looking for an underdog to humor, then join me. If you're a lonely soul, just looking for friends, then join me. If you're a rebel without a cause, just looking for a cause, then you better not join me! (Tricked ya, didn't I?) And if you're a sociopath just looking for a way to express your rage, please get help. Free blogging therapy can only get you so far.

So that's it. What do you think? Are you with me? (Please don't answer that, Sociopath Guy. I told you to get help. Now GO!)

Look for our first installment of Stories In My Pocket on Saturday, May 9th, entitled: "Deep in the Armpit of Texas".....

Photo by Alizadeh100

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