we were only dreaming
The cardboard sleeve of the cassingle lay on the passenger side floor of my rusted-out, red ’76 Chevy Nova alongside empty soft drink cups, cash register receipts and graded homework assignments. Windows rolled all the way down, warm summer breezes whipping our hair about as we sped down Abbe Road in the hot sunshine, singing along at the top of our lungs, me taking the main melody, you singing the echoing harmony:
I was only dreaming
(dreaming)
I was only trying to catch your eye
(trying to catch your eye)
I was only wishing you would notice me
Instead you said goodbye
The day started with no plan – boredom caused me to knock on your bedroom door and ask you to do something goofy, bizarre and out of character for both of us, big brother and little sister, best friends about to be separated by the United States Army. The aimless high school graduate, part-time community college student and future soldier alongside his too-cool, super-popular high school sophomore little sister needed to spend as much time together before adulthood stepped in and split us up for good with responsibilities and daily trivia. It was Sunday. It was sunny outside, a rarity for a late Cleveland summer usually dampened by rain. I wanted to take my little sister to go fly a kite.
Literally.
I remember your brightening, laughter-filled eyes when I asked. We were both dressed and out the door in minutes, speeding to the mall to buy our kite and string, singing along to our current favorite song by OMD.
If you were born in heaven, girl
I’d understand so well
But ever since I met you child,
You made my life such hell
Goofy lyrics, relevant to neither of us, yet we screamed out each word, turning pedestrian’s heads.
We bought a huge, plastic Spider-Man kite.
Minutes later, we were in the expansive, grassy field in front of our small town community college, running with our kite, watching it rise and rise, letting the string out as fast as the wind would take it, desperate to see its trail run out to its end and keep it sailing high for hours. The grass blazed a brilliant green, the result of near-constant rain and intermittent sunshine, soft beneath our bare feet, our backs as we took turn laying down and watching the other fly the kite.
Five years separated us, but we shared all our thoughts, fears, problems, joys and hopes for the future that day. In two short months, I was leaving home for good. But today, we were never closer.
After flying our kite for a couple hours, we got back in the car and sang along once again, this time, the final chorus hitting home, though neither of us would admit it:
I was only wishing you would notice me
Instead you said goodbye
I said goodbye, but I never forgot that day. Or that song.
This summer, we’re going to fly a kite again. I promise.
I was only dreaming
(dreaming)
I was only trying to catch your eye
(trying to catch your eye)
I was only wishing you would notice me
Instead you said goodbye
The day started with no plan – boredom caused me to knock on your bedroom door and ask you to do something goofy, bizarre and out of character for both of us, big brother and little sister, best friends about to be separated by the United States Army. The aimless high school graduate, part-time community college student and future soldier alongside his too-cool, super-popular high school sophomore little sister needed to spend as much time together before adulthood stepped in and split us up for good with responsibilities and daily trivia. It was Sunday. It was sunny outside, a rarity for a late Cleveland summer usually dampened by rain. I wanted to take my little sister to go fly a kite.
Literally.
I remember your brightening, laughter-filled eyes when I asked. We were both dressed and out the door in minutes, speeding to the mall to buy our kite and string, singing along to our current favorite song by OMD.
If you were born in heaven, girl
I’d understand so well
But ever since I met you child,
You made my life such hell
Goofy lyrics, relevant to neither of us, yet we screamed out each word, turning pedestrian’s heads.
We bought a huge, plastic Spider-Man kite.
Minutes later, we were in the expansive, grassy field in front of our small town community college, running with our kite, watching it rise and rise, letting the string out as fast as the wind would take it, desperate to see its trail run out to its end and keep it sailing high for hours. The grass blazed a brilliant green, the result of near-constant rain and intermittent sunshine, soft beneath our bare feet, our backs as we took turn laying down and watching the other fly the kite.
Five years separated us, but we shared all our thoughts, fears, problems, joys and hopes for the future that day. In two short months, I was leaving home for good. But today, we were never closer.
After flying our kite for a couple hours, we got back in the car and sang along once again, this time, the final chorus hitting home, though neither of us would admit it:
I was only wishing you would notice me
Instead you said goodbye
I said goodbye, but I never forgot that day. Or that song.
This summer, we’re going to fly a kite again. I promise.
