Every day I wake up and it's Sunday
Whatever's in my head won't go away
The radio is playing all the usual
What's a Wonderwall anyway?
Because my inside is outside
My right side's on the left side
Cause I'm writing to reach you now but
I might never reach you
Only want to teach you
But that's not you
Last night I called my good friend Carter. Just to hear his voice.
He's that person in my life, that no matter when I call, or what he's doing, he always sounds happy to see me. It's like a little bit of sunshine enters his voice when he recognizes my voice. It's fair to say that he always has this way of making the sun break free of the clouds. He is that person.
If you have someone like him in your life, you know it. I call him when I've lost the light, and all I see is darkness. Hearing his voice is like seeing the light I sometimes miss, and walking toward it. He is my true north.
Sometimes I think he knows this, and other times I'm not so sure.
As we wrapped up our conversation, he was talking to his girlfriend, and had to help her carry in some groceries.
It was about five minutes later that he called me back. I got a big grin on my face when I saw his number, and answered.
He must've pocket dialed me, because at first all I heard was a lot of rustling, and then him and his girl having a fight.
I should've hung up. I know that. I should've just hung up, but I didn't.
One of the things they fight about most is probably one of the silliest things to fight about. At least in my opinion.
Carter has this old car that was his dad's. It runs--barely. He's had this particular car for as long as I've known him which has been all of ten years.
This car is very important to him. It was his dad's.
I remember sitting inside this particular car with Carter on the weekends when we were both in our early 20's. We'd sit inside, listen to the radio and drink beer.
It's been one of the major fights in his relationship. She hates this car, hates the space it takes up in the garage, hates its very existence.
I hear them fighting, and he says to her "Babe, this is my dream. I know you don't understand it, but sometimes, could you just go along with it?"
And she says "No. I'm sick of that fucking car."
And then, I hung the phone up. Sick.
And all the roads we have to walk along are winding
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding
There are many things that I would
Like to say to you
I don't know how
I called him back. When he picked up, I said to him "Do you know that I call you sometimes just to hear you? Because everytime I call, you sound happy. Happy to hear from me. And that's a big deal."
"I just wanted you to know that."
He was quiet for a few moments, then he cleared his voice. "Sal, whoever you decide to end up with is one lucky guy. You have the best heart of anyone I've ever met."
We were both quiet for a few minutes. I asked him "So, you know I heard the fight, right?" He laughed, and said "Yeah, I figured."
The one thing I wanted to say to him, that my lips, my heart, my soul would not let me utter was something I wished with every ounce of me that he knew.
But sometimes we keep things from those people we love, because no matter how much we love them, it's sometimes best not to inflict our feelings on them.
Sometimes, loving someone the most is just letting the pieces fall where they may, and real, true love is wanting someone, that person you really love, to be happy, even if it isn't with you.
What I want most is for you to be happy. I can live with anything if I know that.