just a wish, maybe twice

Last week in my ‘Ode to the odometer’ I mentioned both my friend Gavin and the April morning my then-wife Susan asked me for a divorce. At some point when the talking and listening were done I wandered out of the art studio and through the house and out onto the streets of Portland. I could not see through my tears.

Aimless and unable to breathe, after a while I called Gavin. He talked to me for an hour. He held me up, and mostly together, from 600 miles away. In fact he called me every single day for the next month – every single day: “How are you? Are you okay today? You’re gonna be okay.” At some point in the conversation the first morning he asked if I knew the Fleetwood Mac song “Gypsy.” I said I did, but he explained it to me that day in a way I’d never understood. He said there was a lot of me in it. A lot.

Last Sunday driving home from a walk along the railroad tracks a Fleetwood Mac song came on the radio and my mind went back to “Gypsy,” and to that day. And the vast friendship and care I was offered. I went home and looked up and copied the lyrics. These:

So I’m back, to the velvet underground
Back to the floor, that I love
To a room with some lace and paper flowers.
Back to the gypsy that I was
To the gypsy that I was

And it all comes down to you
Well you know that it does
And lightning strikes, maybe once, maybe twice
Oh, and it lights up the night
And you see your gypsy
You see your gypsy

To the gypsy that remains
Faces freedom with a little fear
I have no fear, I have only love
And if I was a child
And the child was enough
Enough for me to love
Enough to love

She is dancing away from me now
She was just a wish
She was just a wish
And a memory is all that is left for you now
You see your gypsy, oh
You see your gypsy

Huh. Yeah. Still dancing away.