50. Love Letter

Dear Mr. Smith,

I am writing this love letter about 22 years later than I should have. At one point in my life you had such control over me - it was overpowering. You dictated my creative vision, the black clothes I wore, the music I listened too, the style of my hair, my vegetarian diet, the sour expression on my face. When I went to college your hold weakened,  and I started to hang with the heavy metal crowd. I eventually found my true love, got married, and now years later I can honestly say I am living a happy life in suburbia with my husband and two beautiful children.

But all of a sudden everywhere I look you are there. The peg legged jeans that are suddenly back in style, the asymmetrical hair-dos, geometric prints, neon colors contrasted with black, the uni-bomber hoodies. While driving with my daughter today all the trauma of high school came rushing back. She was spining tunes on the iPod and decided to play Love Song, by Sarah Bareilles. She wasn't aware you had ever been in my life (or on my iPod) but your Love Song began to play. In an instant I was 17 again speeding through the streets of Los Angeles in my step mom's station wagon in a desperate attempt to meet you in person if only for a second. To have you speak only to me. My girl friends and I broke many laws that night and at the time it was so worth it.

Some how the excitement of that night, the sense of immortality and eternal youth, slowly faded into early hints of arrititis, motherhood, a full-time job at a community college, a 30-year fixed mortgage, weekend soccer games, and Sunday laundry. I was too worried and depressed to ever know how exciting it was when I was 17, how great it was to have such little responsibility, to have such freedom, and your music was the soundtrack that ran along with my teenage years. Of course you knew all along in your Love Song. Thank you Robert.

whenever i'm alone with you you make me feel

like i am young again whenever i'm alone with

you you make me feel like i am fun again