Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
You can also find Monica's writing here:
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Reminded Of Me

I was reminded of myself today. It was a song that accomplished the simple yet monumental task of reintroducing me to my past self. Like running into an old friend at the supermarket, I chanced upon a Monica of another lifetime.

The song. I haven't heard it in years. Then today. The first few notes lit a fuse inside me and set my heart booming like a fourth of July cannon. I wasn't recalling Ghosts of Relationships Past through those musical notes, nor was I homesick for The Girls.

It was a song that serenaded exclusively about a Monica that, sadly, has been so easily forgotten by me. A Monica relegated to the past yet still fighting to make herself heard, determined to not be left behind like the skis she doesn't use anymore.

Much as the whiff of an ex-boyfriend's cologne sends your mind whirling like a merry-go-round, the feel of this song transported me instantly to another time. Another place. Another girl. And I miss that girl. I want to resurrect her.

The disc spun magic memories and my mind spun out of control.. back to The Girl Who beat the sun to the punch, climbing out of bed each morning in spite of glacial temperatures. My joints would crackle in protest as I layered on clothing, my preemptive strike against the wicked wind that awaited our daily battle atop Snowbird Ski Resort. A windy war in heaven. Pristine drifts of snow wreathed in clouds tinged pink, wisps of cotton candy in the dawn's early light.

I longingly recall The Girl Who hefted her always awkward ski gear into her Durango just as the sun began winking it's buttery hello between violet mountain peaks. The Girl Who was boyfriendless and prospectless and liked it that way. The Girl Who slid Jack Johnson's BRUSHFIRE FAIRYTALES into the player and sang along to the song that would leave footprints across her heart.

The Girl Who would ski for hours on snow so white it made eyes ache instead of The Girl Who now languishes underground in the scrambled egg yellow subway lighting. I miss that girl.

Reader Comments (1)

Well, I guess I get to preserve the aspect of myself with is still prospectless and free! I was just declien a university scholarship which I was counting on. Yet there is also a certain freedom in being terrified in the wind, and not tied down to anything.
January 1, 2006 | Unregistered Commenterjenny

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