I decided to get away from the mundane humdrum that is my life (and, to be honest, to find something else to do besides clean the house), so I visited my favorite cafe. It’s small, has really good chicken sandwiches, is owned by a lovely lady, and it’s attached to the public library. My friends recommended coming to the cafe to visit with each other weekly, and now, this little place has become a very nice hang out.
The other reason I like it so much is that their playlist turns to my two favorite bands time and time again: Dire Straits and Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers. They are my road tripping soundtrack. I was sitting inside this cafe today, writing one of those sanctimonious blog posts that no one really reads anyway, when suddenly, Mark Knopfler was telling me with his velvety voice that “You’re so far away from me.”
I love when good music rushes in good memories. I distinctly remember the time I played this song in the CD player of my little Jeep. My son was sitting next to me, smiling, with his hand surfing the wind outside the open window. The wildflowers were in bloom. A few white, fluffy clouds danced in the sky. We were discovering traces of the Chisholm Trail in Montague County and had just paid a visit to the marker at the old Red River Station Crossing. It was a perfect day… I even got to watch a cowboy use his pick up truck to round up some errant cattle.
So as I was sitting in the cafe, eating my Doritos, the song gave me the opportunity to appreciate how dear these snippets of memory are. Memories aren’t made deliberately, and memory-making moments aren’t recognizable until long afterwards. Silly things like Dire Straits crooning in a cafe can take me back to a place and time where happiness just existed, next to the blue of the sky and alongside the yellow of the daisy and amid the red earth of the river.
My life isn’t so humdrum after all.