Chiquitita
Maybe it's Greece, or maybe it's the way that I've fallen off the wagon flying in the speckled sky. I feel like a dying star, losing its color and its zang as it falls further and further down in the distance. To you, I am just a speck of dust, floating into the abyss. I, the fading star, take up approximately 0.00000000000000000000000001% percent of your life. I am just a mere moment.
As I walk through the romantic streets feeling smaller and insignificant, I go past a man with his guitar. I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of my coconut sun lotion-slathered roasted skin. There is something about music in towns. It's like the musicians just know the heartbeat of their towns. They play precisely how the town is feeling, and the people around them sync themselves to their rhythm - and that always amazes me. The man continues to strum, each of my heartstrings also being played. I open my eyes, and immediately I know I shouldn't have looked.
These kinds of things bum me out. I don't mean to feel bummed out, but I do. An old man with a "Santorini" shopping bag is standing closely to the guitar man, intently watching each string being plucked. I immediately wrap my cardigan tighter across my chest as I keep my arms crossed. It felt as though the man is looking into my heartstrings, and that sir, is not cool. As soon as I realized I was being crazy, that no, this man could not see into my heart, I drop my arms and look.
He's swaying to the music and his wife is behind him, smiling from ear to ear. She has that kind of rosy cheeks, like all the heat of Santorini had made a pact to flood her face. Tipsy and content, she's at the place where she can feel the heartbeat of the town, she's at the place where she's rosy-eyed for her man. She's in L-O-V-E. Her champagne cheeks can't seem to stop rising on her face, like she can't stop the happiness she feels from seeing her husband study his passion and his love. The music. Or at least she thought.
I wish someone would look at me that way.
Just when I want to peel away my eyes, the old man surprises me. He whispers something into the guitarman's ear. The guitarman starts to play a tune, and suddenly I am recognizing the tune. It's ABBA! I just know it is. I am so excited, I am telling my mom and my brother who are in the far away shop, they cannot hear me.
It's Chiquitita. I love this song. As I watch the guitar man play, I can feel my body sway with the music and I want to melt into a pool right here and sit in this night sky forever.
The old man, that old man, instead of focusing on the guitar that I never thought he would turn his attention from, whips around to his wife. He says to her simply: "Let's dance."
There they are
The only two people
on this crowded street
They dance under the moonlight
He whispers something in her ear, and she is glowing. Her rosy cheeks are burning scarlett now.
She is so happy.
He is so happy.
I want their moment to last forever.
* ******** *
Now, as I sit in my soft bed with my soft bathrobe and my messy hair - smelling like burnt sun and cocoa butter, all I want to do is listen to Chiquitita.
The lyrics of this song is about someone craving and thirsty to understand what is bothering their loved ones. They can immediately tell that they are under immense pain and sorrow. They feel their pain for them. They talk about understanding their suffering and aching. They just want their loved ones to be okay, to tell them the truth. They want to remind them how much of a light they are to the world.They want to lift their boulders and be their shoulder to cry on - be their best friend - and be the one they can always rely on.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone really wants to know what's going on with me. I wonder if they can tell when something is wrong. I wonder if anyone really wants me to feel better - not just in the way when we wish someone well for a moment - but really hope with all their hearts, and spend nights praying for me to feel better. I wonder if someone feels bothered when I feel bothered. Is that selfish?
In the end, I wonder if anyone feels the way that I do and did about them.
Maybe this year I let myself be open to love. Maybe I don't need to be so comfortable with being alone anymore. Maybe, I will follow Abba's advice and dance once again. Maybe.
All I know is, as I lay my head on these comfortable white sheets is the last few words of this song:
Try once more like you did before
Sing a new song, Chiquitita.
Try once more like you did before
Sing a new song, Chiquitita.
As I walk through the romantic streets feeling smaller and insignificant, I go past a man with his guitar. I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of my coconut sun lotion-slathered roasted skin. There is something about music in towns. It's like the musicians just know the heartbeat of their towns. They play precisely how the town is feeling, and the people around them sync themselves to their rhythm - and that always amazes me. The man continues to strum, each of my heartstrings also being played. I open my eyes, and immediately I know I shouldn't have looked.
These kinds of things bum me out. I don't mean to feel bummed out, but I do. An old man with a "Santorini" shopping bag is standing closely to the guitar man, intently watching each string being plucked. I immediately wrap my cardigan tighter across my chest as I keep my arms crossed. It felt as though the man is looking into my heartstrings, and that sir, is not cool. As soon as I realized I was being crazy, that no, this man could not see into my heart, I drop my arms and look.
He's swaying to the music and his wife is behind him, smiling from ear to ear. She has that kind of rosy cheeks, like all the heat of Santorini had made a pact to flood her face. Tipsy and content, she's at the place where she can feel the heartbeat of the town, she's at the place where she's rosy-eyed for her man. She's in L-O-V-E. Her champagne cheeks can't seem to stop rising on her face, like she can't stop the happiness she feels from seeing her husband study his passion and his love. The music. Or at least she thought.
I wish someone would look at me that way.
Just when I want to peel away my eyes, the old man surprises me. He whispers something into the guitarman's ear. The guitarman starts to play a tune, and suddenly I am recognizing the tune. It's ABBA! I just know it is. I am so excited, I am telling my mom and my brother who are in the far away shop, they cannot hear me.
It's Chiquitita. I love this song. As I watch the guitar man play, I can feel my body sway with the music and I want to melt into a pool right here and sit in this night sky forever.
The old man, that old man, instead of focusing on the guitar that I never thought he would turn his attention from, whips around to his wife. He says to her simply: "Let's dance."
There they are
The only two people
on this crowded street
They dance under the moonlight
He whispers something in her ear, and she is glowing. Her rosy cheeks are burning scarlett now.
She is so happy.
He is so happy.
I want their moment to last forever.
* ******** *
Now, as I sit in my soft bed with my soft bathrobe and my messy hair - smelling like burnt sun and cocoa butter, all I want to do is listen to Chiquitita.
The lyrics of this song is about someone craving and thirsty to understand what is bothering their loved ones. They can immediately tell that they are under immense pain and sorrow. They feel their pain for them. They talk about understanding their suffering and aching. They just want their loved ones to be okay, to tell them the truth. They want to remind them how much of a light they are to the world.They want to lift their boulders and be their shoulder to cry on - be their best friend - and be the one they can always rely on.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone really wants to know what's going on with me. I wonder if they can tell when something is wrong. I wonder if anyone really wants me to feel better - not just in the way when we wish someone well for a moment - but really hope with all their hearts, and spend nights praying for me to feel better. I wonder if someone feels bothered when I feel bothered. Is that selfish?
In the end, I wonder if anyone feels the way that I do and did about them.
Maybe this year I let myself be open to love. Maybe I don't need to be so comfortable with being alone anymore. Maybe, I will follow Abba's advice and dance once again. Maybe.
All I know is, as I lay my head on these comfortable white sheets is the last few words of this song:
Try once more like you did before
Sing a new song, Chiquitita.
Try once more like you did before
Sing a new song, Chiquitita.
Try once more like you did before.
Sing a new song, Chiquitita, you are loved, you will only be loved more, you will be loved by more, and I will love you for all eternity.
You are so loved.
- teeny, tiny & terrified.
Sing a new song, Chiquitita, you are loved, you will only be loved more, you will be loved by more, and I will love you for all eternity.
You are so loved.
- teeny, tiny & terrified.
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