The last hit of Morphine, then I'll fly straight. Ish.
Why the song Yes felt written for me
Yes is only two minutes long, but man I’m telling you, it says so many things I need to hear. The first 20 seconds or so is basically bass and saxophone, as if to announce to anyone listening: This is a song by Morphine, thanks for being here for it. And then…
Then comes your friend and mine, Mark Sandman, saying Yes fourteen times. A moody echo lilts around behind his voice, inviting, tempting, thrilling. I think back to all the times I’ve said yes when it scared me, and the times I said no and was left wondering what might have been. It is damn sexy.
Don’t get me wrong when I say that the lyrics that follow remind me of my Mom. I’ve learned since losing her, and having my own children, that moms often don’t know what the hell they’re doing but they do it anyway, as well as they can and with so much love. (We might do some dead mom posts in future, fair warning. Don’t be scared; they will include joyful moments.) My Mom’s advice whenever I felt overwhelmed was some version of “Don’t worry, it’ll all work out.” Sandman sings:
If you can’t decide what to do with your life
You just don’t know where to spend your time
If you can’t decide what to do with your life
I’m sure you’ll do whatever’s right
I’ve always known you were incredibly bright
It’s not even really advice! And it used to drive me crazy. Why can’t you just tell me what to do, Mom? Why can’t you tell me what will happen? I understand now that it was because how the hell would she know. She made her choices with the limited information she had, including her choices as a parent. The choices I was faced with, and the information I had were all different from hers, as was my entire childhood and adolescence. So my Mom did the only thing she could do - try to give me a little faith in myself. One thing she had learned from hard experience, was that faith in yourself could guide you through some really tough shit and make you feel like a badass on the other side.
That’s the feeling I get with the next lines of Yes. What would you do if you felt like you’d been through an emotional gauntlet, finally told the truth and were rejected for it, and when it seemed you were out of options you heard this:
Get in your go-kart and go, little sister, get in your go-kart and go
and then swing your swift sword, sister
Swing your swift sword now
Swing your swift sword, sister, sister, sister
What I did was finalize my divorce, refinance my house, and get a new job that I was not entirely qualified for, all at the same time. Through that weeks long process, I was terrified, trying to support my kids in their emotional adjustment, and still sharing a home with their dad. It was Mom Level Taking Care of Business.
So now, living the single mom life and peacefully co-parenting, I still feel terrified sometimes, rejected sometimes, and emotionally overwrought more than I’d like. But I’m getting good at my job. I’ve been able to soothe some of the pain for my kids, even when all I can say is that it’ll all work out. Being capable of these things feels pretty badass. When I question myself, wondering if I’m doing all right, if I’m being the mom that my children need me to be, most days I can say yes. Fourteen damn times.