“Do you remember where you bought this CD?” he asks, in the midst of the after-dinner cleanup and pickup.
No, I can’t remember where I bought it. (We decided it must have been used off the internet, with the hold punched through the bar code.)
But I remember why.
It has that song on it. One of the many that were “our song” throughout all those years of friendship and falling in love.
One of those about which we’d ask the other, “Have you heard so-and-so’s new song?” And in thinly veiled code, we’d reveal how much we liked the song, how much the message spoke of our feelings for the other.
He presses play and I remember.
The way he signed that letter. The way he smiled that day. The way he said, “I do love you, very much.” The way those songs were the soundtrack to our lives.
Yes, I remember.