Alison

I christened the new house this evening the only way that is truly important: with music. For the last four days, granny has been in respite care. She comes back home tomorrow, so I decided to take a load of stuff over. Among that stuff was a stereo I haven’t used in years. Once I got it inside, I noticed that I had left a record—that’s right, vinyl—on the turntable. It was Elvis Costello’s My Aim Is True, a classic. So Alison was the first song to echo throughout the new house. I know, Alison. Of all the songs on the album, I pick the one you hear all the time. Hey, I happen to love that song. Probably the last time I listened to that album was in grad school. And even though I’ve heard that song many times since, listening to it on vinyl took me back. Back to a time when everything was completely different. I had hopes and dreams and all the time in the world ahead of me. That was a different girl. It hurt, no small amount, to go back there and to see where I am now. But I felt like me again.

Being a caregiver can rob you of so much. Of everything, if you let it. It can rob you of you. Your life becomes all about that other person, to the degree that you lose sight of who you are. You forget that you were once a person, who hung out with friends, who enjoyed life, who listened to good music. Do not forget yourself. When the needs of this other person consume you, call a friend, watch your favorite movie (Holy Grail always does it for me), listen to your favorite album. Or one you just really like a lot. One that maybe reminds you of better times. Yes, it’s sad. But it will keep you human.