killing me softly

I love this song.
Always have.

When I lived in the house I was born in, I use to ride my tricycle around through: the parlor, the kitchen, the living room and the den - singing this. One giant circle.

We lived in the city and I wasn't allowed to ride it in the street unless someone was with me, so I got stuck riding my bike in the house more days than not. I had to have been about 3 or so.

Whenever I hear this song, it throws me right back into that period in life. The sights. The sounds. The people. Events.

Music has always held such a strong place in my life and mind. Everything is associated with it in one way or another.

Good or bad.

I didn't so much care for the song that Susan Boyle sang that catapulted her into stardom (though I do appreciate her voice, just not the song so much), but this rendition of hers is wonderful.

I even try to overlook the fact that she fucks up the lyrics in two parts because I like it so much.

I've been singing it and playing it so much, it even sunk into Grant's subconscious because he was humming it tonight.








The inevitable happens then too - and I wind up thinking about this tiny little boy that I use to sit out on my front steps and watch whenever he would ride his big wheel in the street.

I wasn't allowed off the steps, so all I could do is sit there and watch him day after day.

I was just as acutely aware of my surroundings way back then. I would sit on those steps and be his personal watch guard. I don't recall us ever saying a solitary word to each other.

I was 4 years old.
He couldn't have been more than 2 years old.

I never knew where his parents were. I don't remember ever seeing them. So, I would sit there and when a car was coming, I'd yell for him to get out of the road.

He always did.

Then one night my Aunt came over - and my mother, father, she and I went to dinner. My brother wasn't even born yet. As we were walking back the two blocks to our house, I saw all the lights and I just knew.

I can still see it like it just happened yesterday.

There it was, right in front of our house - the chalk outline of his dead body. His big wheel cast aside in the street and them pushing the stretcher with his body on it into the ambulance. Tire marks clearly defined in the street.

Police cars all over the place.
The lights were so vivid in the dusk.

It's been 36 years since that happened and I can still picture it crystal clear. That little boy is never that far from my mind. And I've never shaken the notion that if I had been there - he'd still be alive.

No matter what anyone tries to tell me to the contrary.

That was my role and I failed him. It's as simple as that. I understand how ridiculous that sounds considering I was just a little kid myself, but that's how I felt then about it and how I feel about it to this day.

That little boy (and I don't even know his name) - is never very far from my thoughts. He's the reason why I was so adamant about my kids always being in my sight while they were growing up too.

I know that everything can be over in the blink of an eye.