Have you ever heard the song “Here’s where the story ends” by the Sundays? The song is a couple of decades old and was popular on college radio back in the day. It has a soft, pleasing melody that somewhat hides a darker vision of the world. Notably, I am one of those people that often messes up song lyrics to the ninth degree. I actually thought ABBA was singing to kick the Dancing Queen (they actually said digging–but does that make any more sense?).
I am also one of those individuals that goes first for melody, then lyrics when deciding whether I like a song or not (consciously or not). Thus, for a long time I never fully processed the lyrics of this song. I accepted that something happened and thus the story (the journey) was ending. Considering that 65% of the songs out there about such a theme, I had a good chance of being right. Right?
Why am I bringing this song up for discussion? Well, I got over my “I dodged a bullet” earworm and now have this pleasantly dark song running through my head. I keep singing the following lyrics:
“it’s that little souvenir of of a terrible year which makes me eyes feel sore” followed by “it’s that little souvenir of a colorful year which makes me smile inside.”
I just found myself humming the melody and singing the song. Then while I was on the elliptical, it hit. What a perfect song, or at least a perfect set of lyrics, to capture what the last two years have been like. I have endured some terrrible years as of late that were also great colorful years. It’s almost like that silly catchy tune for the television show Facts of Life: “You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have the facts of life.” How almost idiotically simple, yet how sipidly insightful. But I far prefer the Sundays’ lyrics.
With each set of terrible events I had to endure last year, came a new set of life and job skills I didn’t have previous to that. I learned. I grew. Yes, I had some horrible “souvenirs” that truly made my stomach turn and indeed made my eyes sore. However, I endured. I became inured. I was self-assured. Thus, a terrible year was indeed a colorful year. I have no idea really what the Sunday’s meant with their lyrics. But this is what they mean for me. These horrible years as they were become ones that instead can make you smile as you set about new horizons.
Now is this where the story ends? No, this is where the story actually never ends. We keep evolving. Our perspectives change. Its not just that you take the good and you take the bad Its more that the good is the bad and the bad is the good. We are, afterall, in a post-truth world. Might as well keep rolling with that.
I caught this beautiful full moon the other night. I felt both small and grand looking at it. And maybe that is where the story does end.