When we meet again
Introduced as friends
Please don't let on that you knew me when
I was hungry and it was your world.
After trading today, I updated my trend tables and decided to run out to the bank and mail box before composing my evening update to subscribers. I had forgotten that over the weekend I had been playing The Essential Bob Dylan on my iPod, which is plugged into my car's sound system. Mulling over what insights I might glean from today's volatile trading, I was unceremoniously jarred from the current and thrown into the past as Just Like A Woman came on.
There isn't a woman in my life that doesn't fit the profile in this song. Nor is there a memory left that isn't tainted by the words above, so poignant, so sad, so painful. Mr. Macho market trend trader, so invincible, so on top of this financial world, was reduced to tears, silent, aching, tears of mourning, of regret, of isolation and of remorse.
I passed through some tough personal times earlier this year. If you haven't noticed, I have come out it OK, maybe even stronger and better then ever. The problem is, that through it all, I never really had time to mourn the loss of Michelle. That doomed and short-lived romantic drama was erased as quickly, as inexplicably, as it appeared. Other more pressing matters intervened at the end, taking all of my strength and soul to pass through that time and come out the other side. But I never got to mourn, to accept, to wonder, to understand the whirlwind that sucked me in and spit me out, yes, it was her world and we just didn't fit.
I thought that the pieces were picked-up. But I forgot that Dylan was on and that his songs pierce the protective shells that we build just so we can go on. Poignant, stinging, disarming, his simple words rhyme across decades of loves; loves found, loves lost and loves remembered.
And on this Monday in May, a love mourned.
A
