The song I have posted this week is in complete incongruity to today. It's a perfect spring day and the sun is filtering cheerfully through the blinds. You could not really be melancholy on a day like this.
This song, on the other hand, calls for rain, calls for a late-night long drive alone. It reminds me of this weekend, though it was equally sunny and cheerful in San Francisco this weekend. It was lovely and it all worked out more perfectly than I could have hoped. It was filled with a lot of smiles and laughter and hugs. We took a long walk through the Mission, and he couldn't understand what about it I loved. We covered the entirety of the Haight, and I couldn't understand what he saw in it. There were visits to old stomping grounds, visits to new treasures, and visits to the ever-calming ocean.
And, as is the case in happy times, you do not really think about what it all means until much later, when you are making the long journey home. The song is really not to do with this weekend. It's more to do with friendship in general, and the feeling that, the more you grow up, the less you are understood. Luckily, you also start to value those who get the 60-70% of you, instead of being annoyed with that missing 30-40%.