"DECEMBER BOYS" PART EIGHT: A PILGRIMAGE ON A TIMELESS NIGHT (5th section)

DECEMBER BOYS

"A PILGRIMAGE ON A
TIMELESS NIGHT" 

(5th section)  

     The remainder of the morning continued in a mental fog pierced with the brightness of the sun. The trio staggered to Josie Fagen’s dorm of Witte Hall, where Mariah collected her possessions and deposited Josie’s room keys with a floor mate. After then dropping off Mariah’s clothes at Rhett’s dorm in Ogg Hall, the threesome traveled back to the Lakeshore dorms to crash in Craig’s room for the rest of the morning, as well as the entirety of the afternoon into early evening. Upon waking, it was then decided to give Mariah Esposito a proper introduction to the university—after a strategically placed phone call to Mariah’s parents, designed to cut them off at the pass and to extol the virtues of a productive and informative weekend college visit. Craig alerted his floor mates to Mariah’s situation (mostly to ensure her private visits to the bathroom) and then happily introduced them all to each other. After a quick meal of sorts at The Shed, Rhett and Craig presented Mariah to a typically festive Spring night at Memorial Union. While Craig eventually had to depart in order to collect some records and broadcast his radio show, Rhett and Mariah ended up at the more subdued Union South for comical bowling and continued exposure to the sights and sounds of campus life. The night ended quietly with more pizza and more soda in Rhett’s room while listening to “Road To Nowhere.” Rhett silently drifted off to sleep on his bed leaving Mariah in the solitude of the moment. As she sat in one of the more comfortable chairs, allowing the chilly night time Spring breeze to caress her face, Mariah breathed deeply, letting her heart beat slow and unwound the weekend’s events in her mind like film unspooling from projector. She pondered the success to failure ratio of her visit thus far and quickly deduced that despite the troubling beginnings and unplanned morning odyssey, it was a voyage well worth taking and one she was already feeling disappointment at having to leave behind the next morning. Even the callousness of Josie Fagen already seemed to be eons away and failed to derail the weekend’s purpose. On the contrary, Josie’s actions quite possibly enhanced her positive feelings for the experience and for a split second, Mariah wondered if she should even thank Josie…but, even as a surprise to herself, she was not in a forgiving mood and would refuse to be so concerning her now former friend. Thinking back to the seemingly eternal hours she spent sitting alone in a foreign dormitory’s festivities, fending off the glances of drunken suitors, she began to feel a sense of pride at her own strength in the situation, which was presented with an untouchable standoffishness that no one was truly brave enough to breach. She never knew she had it in her and she discovered a certain and previously unforeseen power. She had remained brave. She felt secure in her decisions of whom to place trust. In conversations held with Rhett and Craig, she surprised herself with her own assertiveness. At first, she felt is purely stemmed from her anger towards Josie but after a moment, she reasoned that if her assertions popped from her unexpectedly, those same feelings may have emerged at some point whether fueled by Josie or not. Maybe strength and assertiveness were qualities she had already possessed but never had the opportunity to try. There was no way to ever really know with unquestioned certainty but she didn’t want to diminish this discovery made at this moment at this institution. There was something so right with her current train of thought and while she didn’t want to elevate anything past the point of rationality, it was too important to ignore or discount. The rising elation she felt throughout her body spoke a truth to her that words couldn’t handle on their own. Mariah felt an ease with her surroundings, an ease she never felt in high school and the potential of feeling this way for hopefully extended periods and perhaps even stronger and more assured was definitely tempting. It felt as if she had shed a skin. That whatever had kept her quieter, as a follower, as one to be dragged along by the pursuits of those more adventurous, had now become something to be discarded.  

She had seen the potential of a future self and she didn’t want anything to cease that evolution. If it were possible, her college adventures in Madison would begin immediately.

     Mariah rose and strode across the room in a way as to not evaporate her building epiphany and began to investigate the contents of Rhett’s educational pursuits. She paged through his copious and visually frenetic notes. She thumbed through his textbooks on Philosophy and novels to study for Comp Lit. She inspected the resoundingly unfamiliar names of Derrida, Foucault, and Jung and chuckled quietly to herself as she envisioned the names as an organization of an ancient group of attorneys. She began to envision herself striding up and down Bascom Hill or walking down University Avenue, in a sea of students heading to one class or another. Picturing herself in these new surroundings made Mariah happily realize the thoughts felt less like a wish for a hoped future but more as an invitation that dangled in front of her awaiting fingers that she was anxious to accept. It was at this very moment that Mariah Esposito realized that she had fallen in love with the campus and she continued to envision herself in hoped for situations. She wanted to experience all of the lecture halls, crammed from top to bottom with students breathlessly taking notes from Professors of all kinds. She wanted to be drenched with the falling leaves that seemed to only exist on a college campus. Seeing as she was more of an introverted sort, the thought of carousing through the many libraries sent an excited tingle up her spine. She wanted more nights at Memorial Union. She wanted to meet new people from…everywhere! She even wanted the horrifically bad dorm food. Every element added to the whole and she wanted it all. The atmosphere of this campus was inexplicably comforting and she just wanted more and more of it and right now.

     Surprising herself again, she realized that she wanted to learn more about Craig Hughes. While he was alternately shy or awkward with his sense of humor, which she did feel was over compensating for any sense of shyness, he had been a truly gracious host and a person she felt she would love to have on her side in this environment. As she listened to his radio program, she heard a different side to Craig. He sounded more confident, more self-assured and perhaps it was because he was in his natural element of music, a quality she found admirable during their visit to Memorial Union. The music he played on his program mostly consisted of pop songs of varying styles, intensity and moods but all of it contained a slightly left-of-center quality that felt obscure to her ears. Much like everything else she had experienced this weekend, the music served as another invitation to a place beyond what she already knew and again, she wanted more. As his radio program continued to provide a soundtrack to her new awakenings, she felt a synchronicity that she wanted to acknowledge personally. Impulsively, she reached for the telephone, began to dial the often repeated request line number, and after the too-late beginnings of the ringing tone on the other end, her heart began racing.

     “WLHA?” Craig answered.

     “Hello,” she began tentatively. “Um…may I speak with Craig Hughes?”

     That voice again. That unmistakable, siren-like voice.

     “Mariah?”

     “Yes! How did you know it was me?” she asked quizzically.

     Not wanting to give himself away, Craig tried to act quickly. “Just a lucky guess…I guess,” he said, feigning a certain slyness that he was uncertain was terribly successful.

     “I see.”

     Immediately seizing upon a dark thought, Craig worriedly asked, “Are you OK?”

     “Yes, I’m fine. What’s wrong? You sound concerned?”

     “Where are you?”

     “I’m at Rhett’s. He’s sleeping and I’m just…” Mariah breathed a deep, happy sigh. “I‘m just taking it all in.”

     “Oh,” said Craig, sounding relieved. “I had this vision that you had been abandoned once again at some party.”

     Mariah laughed heartedly at the notion of cruel fate occurring twice in a weekend as Craig luxuriated within the sound of her melodic amusement. “If I am ever subjected to anything like that again, just shoot me because it will definitely be of my own lack of judgment!”

     “Glad to hear that all is well.”

     “It certainly is.”

     Pause.

     “So…” Craig began cautiously. “Why are you calling?”

     “Would you prefer that I hadn’t?” asked Mariah with a flirtatiousness that even took her by shock. It was too late to return that tone back into her body.

     “No. That’s not what I meant at all,” he stammered. “I’m just surprised…Happily surprised.”

     “I guess I’m surprised too.”

     “How so?”

     “I just didn’t think I’d get through. I’ve never really known anyone to get through to a radio station. Not that I’ve ever tried it myself…Until now, that is.”

     “No worries there,” Craig chuckled. “I hardly ever get calls or requests.”

     “Really? I like your show. It has a good…vibe…I don’t know if that’s the word I’m looking for. But, I’m having a good time listening to it.”

     “Why thank you!” gushed a positively flattered Craig. “I mean—it’s late Saturday night. I would imagine that there aren’t too many people around in their dorms listening to the radio right now. And then, there’s the issue of our highly deficient wattage to deal with. I’m amazed that you can even hear me now.”

      “It’s as clear as a bell.”

     “Hmmm. That means the wind is blowing in the right direction.”

     Mariah laughed and Craig was pleased she found his comment humorous.

     “So, why do you do this if you don’t get requests, calls and wonder if anyone is listening in the first place?”

     “God!” he beamed. “Why wouldn’t I do this?”

     “Childhood fantasy fulfilled?” asked Mariah, completely picking up on the source of Craig’s joy.

     “I couldn’t have said it better myself. You have a great way with words, you know.”

     “Why thank you, sir.”

     Another brief pause.

     “What is this music you’re playing now?” Mariah inquired.

     “Mott The Hoople.”

     “Who?”

     “Mott The Hoople,” Craig began to explain, and hoping to ring the correct bells of musical memories. “They’re a 70’s band. David Bowie wrote their song ‘All The Young Dudes’.”

     “I don’t know what that is.”

     “Really?” asked an honestly stunned Craig, who still found it difficult to comprehend people who hadn’t previously heard songs which he felt were universally familiar. “Maybe you would know it if I played it. I’d have to look for it though and I really hope we have it. I mean-any self respecting radio station would have that song but we are notorious for not having even the most seminal works,” he chuckled.

     “You know, even if you did play it, I really don’t think I would know it at all. “  Then, ensuring no signs of disappointment were inferred, she added sweetly, “But don’t let me stop you. I’d love to hear it”
     “A rare request…sort of,” he laughed. “I will look for it.”

     “Great,” she said and then after a brief pause she added, ”Thank you Mr. DJ!” with another unexpected bout of honey sounding flirtatiousness (before she knew it, she had even dropped her voice a register) that indeed sent the intended chemically emotional response to Craig, who then nearly bumped into the record player’s stylus on the upcoming track he had selected for broadcast.

     And after that momentary firework blast…silence. A somewhat lengthy one at that.  Within that silence, Craig and Mariah both mentally returned to that fleeting instance where their brains and hearts were happily and confoundingly scrambled by the Botkin House bathroom the night before. Again, Craig was unsure as to what he had heard, the tone in which he heard it as well as the intent and possibility that she would ever be of interest to him. If he did hear what he felt he heard, perhaps it wasn’t even directed to him. Perhaps she was feeling frisky for some unknown reason and just let it out. It would’ve happened anytime, anywhere. Mariah was equally unsure as to where this unusual behavior emerged from and exactly what it was about this person that allowed her to behave this way. Perhaps he saw right through her as some silly high school girl feebly trying to create a worldly romantic façade she could not have possibly have earned in any way at this stage of her life. What they were both absolutely, positively and completely certain of was that neither one of them wanted to hang up the telephone.

     Finally, breaking the silence, Craig spoke. “Would you mind holding on for just a minute?”

     “You know…I could just get going.”
     “Oh no,” he said, a little too hurriedly. “I just have to grab a few more records to get the next set started. This song’s about over and besides, I have a request to fill.”

     Mariah smiled and she hoped that Craig could hear it.

     Once the voice of Robyn Hitchcock announced the station’s call letters, (an audio snippet designed to also signal a musical tonal change in song selections), Mariah’s ears were greeted with the opening somnambulistic chords and narcotic beat of U2’s “Love Comes Tumbling.” Mariah felt like picking Craig’s brain about life on the UW campus, an interview Craig was only too happy to oblige.

     “I realize this might be a cliché, but…what’s your major?” she inquired with a knowing giggle.

     “I am actually undeclared right now.”

     “Is that bad? Don’t you have to have one?
     “No. Not right away. It’s not like the ‘University Major Police’ will seek you out or anything. My parents, on the other hand…that’s a whole another ball of pressure. If they had their way, I would have picked my major during Sophomore year of high school!”

     “Maybe your parents and my parents should get together.”

     “Really? Are you under the microscope too?”

     “Very much so. Don’t get me wrong. I love my parents. I cannot imagine a world without the two of them in it. It’s like they have always been here, you know? I do realize they only want the best for me so I can’t complain terribly much about it but yes…it would be nice if they eased up a little from time to time. It’s like they feel that I’m not hearing what they’re saying or that I am actively choosing to not listen or worse yet, ignore them. I am honestly hanging onto their every word but when they say the same things for an hour, it’s just gets to be too much sometimes.”

     Craig exuded an empathetic laugh. “I completely understand what you mean! My parents are like an endurance tag team. One of them will lay into me for one thing or another for seemingly an eon and then, when it seems like it’s going to slow down, Mom will pass the baton to Dad or he will pass the baton to her and then they go at it with me. I’m amazed that they never seem to run out of words, breath or energy. I don’t think they really take into account that the act of listening takes up almost even more energy.”

     “Do they try to quiz you on what they’ve said?”

     “Mercilessly,” he snickered dryly. “And…I think they actually enjoy that part so I have to stay on my toes.”

     “I will amend my earlier statement. Our parents should definitely meet. They could hold a summit, passionately discuss our respective futures and share any deep worries they have for their obviously and completely unfocused children,” she laughed.

     Laughing a little harder, Craig added, “I would really hate to be the subject of that kind of a summit!”

     “So back to your status as undeclared,” said Mariah. “Do you have any ideas of what you might want to do?”

     “Yes. I know it’s not what my parents would want for me but then again, I think they would be happy if I picked something. But, I am thinking of Communication Arts. They have three different course tracks you can take and the Radio-TV-Film track is the one that speaks to me. I originally wanted to be a Journalism major but after looking at the courses which many of them looked to be like classes in law, it lost its luster for me.”

     “So, you’re a writer?”

     “I don’t know…I just know that I like to write. Its one of the only things I feel comfortable with. I think I told people I wanted to be Journalism major back in high school just so people would stop asking me what I wanted to major in. I always felt like I had to say something.”

     “I have to admit, that line of questioning is grating to say the least. I mean—just let me graduate from high school first. I do have a few weeks left yet, as well as a graduation ceremony to attend to. Do I have to know my entire college destiny now?”

     “Please don’t hang up when I ask you this but…do you have any ideas of what you want to major in?”

     “I won’t hang up. Don’t worry. Ummm…you know, I have always had this thing for History.”

     “Really?”

    “Don’t you?”

    “Well…it’s not like I have anything against history. No vendettas, arguments or accusations against it. Not like Science.”

     “Mortal enemies?” Mariah asked.

     “To the bitter end, definitely,” Craig laughed somewhat painfully as the sound of his disapproving parents flashed through his brain. “But History…It’s hard for me, I guess. If it is not connected to a topic I’m already interested in, the dates and places get jumbled in my head. I mean—I could give you the history of a band or the entire life track of a director and how that path may relate to something else but if you tossed say…the life path of King Agamemnon at me, I’d drown. What is it about History that appeals to you?”

     “Weeeelllll,” Mariah drawled to Craig’s content, “I know when I was younger, it was really a fascination with how much simpler life seemed to be. I guess it was something more romantic than real but still…I think what really grabbed me was this Social Studies teacher I had last year. She was a lawyer. She only taught from time to time and she was really one of those teachers you’d never want to cross. I mean—the first day of class, she like gets up in front of everyone and lays down her own personal and exhaustive Magna Carta, to which she ends with ‘And if any of you think I’m a BITCH, then that’s right!! I’m a BITCH!!’” she concluded after demonstrating bloodthirsty imitation.

     “So, you liked History because you were under duress?”

     “No,” she laughed. “What got to me was this idea that just because it is in a book doesn’t always mean that’s the way it happened. She used to always say that while there’s truth in facts, facts aren’t necessarily the truth and how we must always, always, always question everything including her! I thought that was brave. I mean-she was the first teacher I ever had that that really seemed to want for us to think, you know? She challenged us to not take everything at face value and that History is about everything that’s left out as much as everything that’s left in. And why were things left out and all of the stories that can come from why things were left in and out and so on and I got to thinking that History is the account of every single person that lived it and that’s when I fell in love with it. I really like thinking about what came before me, what came before my parents and my friends and just people I don’t know at all. I mean—who walked this campus long before you and Rhett got here? Who built this place? Why were things designed to look they way they do? It’s all connected, I guess and I like looking at the connections. Ooooh! I just love architecture and art history too and I was just looking through Rhett’s books and notes and I just can’t wait to find out more and…I’m rambling aren’t I? Just going off, huh?”

     “No, not at all!” said Craig filled with a growing affection for this girl who had taken the time to call him up. “I really get a clearer picture of it. I guess I never thought of History that way. In fact, it sounds a lot like how Rhett thinks of things too.”

     “Yeah. He gets his head in the clouds quite a bit. Before I knew him, I used to think he was perpetually stoned but I realized he’s just naturally in another place.”

     “I can see that. You know, he was very right about you too.”

     “How so?”

     “He told me that when you don’t tend to say terribly much but when you get going, you get going.”

     “Ah, so he thinks I can’t just shut up, huh?” she mused while compulsively twirling the telephone cord.

     “I really don’t think that’s what he meant. I’m glad to hear you and hear what you think about things. And besides, I’m a captive audience…happily so and what else am I gonna do anyway?”

      “Um…your radio show, perhaps?”

     “That’s easy. I’ve got songs and songs lined up.”

     And so he did. They conversed through World Party’s “All Come True,” chatted through Oingo Boingo’s “Long Breakdown,” parlayed through The DBs “I Lie,” and prattled through Fleetwood Mac’s “Sands Of Time.” For both Mariah and Craig, time became elastic as before either of them even realized it, 50 minutes had passed without a trace of dead air, either on or off the air, had occurred. Soon, it was almost time for Craig to end his broadcast and whatever gossamer thread held the two together in stimulating conversation, he was anxious not to break it and he hoped she felt the same. So, he tried to push it a little bit longer.

     “So, are you definitely coming here?”

     “After this weekend, there is absolutely no question in my mind in the least,” said Mariah with a clear-eyed certainty that matched her words.

     “Then my work here is done!” said Craig with a deep-voiced mock bravado.

     “You should work for the university then,” she said.

     “Who knows? Maybe I will. But until that day arrives, I was also wondering if you have any idea of where you might live?”

     “Who knows what the collective deities of student housing will do with me but I can tell you that I listed Chabourne Hall as my top choice. Girls only, you know, but at least it’s not the…what did you call it…oh yeah…’The Virgin Vault’.”

     “Look…I’m sorry about that. It’s just a name that’s goes all over campus and…”

     “Don’t worry about it,” she consoled. “I was just mad about Josie and everything was making me angry then. It already feels like a year ago. So, yes, going back to housing, I wanted a place that was girls only.”

     “Ah…girls only,” said Craig sounding more relaxed after being released from his early morning faux-pas, which did indeed already feel like a year ago. “I can relate. I picked where I’m living because it was boys only but you know, there’s girls around so much of the time that I’ve just gotten used to it.”

     “Is that so?” she asked flirtatiously.

     “Hey! I didn’t say they were coming from my room. I just said that they were around.”

     “OK then. Because, if you were the campus lothario, I would have no idea of how you ever got any studying done at all. I am fully aware of the reputation this school has for partying…and so do my parents so that is making them trepidatious about having me attend.”

     “I feel that I must respond to both points. First off, the concept of me being a campus lothario. I’m flattered and ultimately confounded as to how you could have ever come up with that descriptive term for me,” he began laughing.

     “Why would that be so hard to believe?” she inquired coquettishly.

     “Because,“  he began tentatively and thinking of the current non-existent state of his romantic life, “it’s just not true.” After a hiccup of a pause he continued. “Anyhow, as for your second point about this being a party school. I had a high school classmate who was a year ahead of me tell me when I was finishing high school that maybe I should re-think coming here because this is such a party school. He told me that he just couldn’t get anything done and he actually transferred to somewhere else. But, you know, all I could think of is who put the gun to his head and told him to go to the party and not study. This school has about 40,000 students and there’s so many other things to do than party and besides, you’ll be so busy that you really won’t have time to party that much.”

     “So what do you do?”

     “Well…it may sound boring to you or others but I love going to movies, hanging out at the Union, doing this radio show…man, just sitting in the dorm hallways with my friends and just talking for hours and hours is great. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

     “That doesn’t sound boring to me,” she said tenderly. “In fact, I think that really sounds…perfect.”

     Another pause to allow the words to sail through the telephone wires to Craig’s ears and heart.

     “Well…I know you’ll have Rhett around but if you need a study partner…”

     “Oh…you’ll be a Junior then. I’m sure you’d be too busy for anything like that.”

     “I’m just putting it out there. And trust me, you’ll be busy too. You’ll be so busy that you just may even skip a class just to do the work for it. In fact, there will even be times when your body just says, ‘No.’”

     “What do you mean my body will just say ‘No’?”

     “Not long ago, I got up for class as always. I took my shower, got dressed, went to ‘The Virgin Vault’ for my morning orange juice, walked down Bascom Hill to the Humanities building for an English lecture. I got to the door, placed my hand on the door handle, opened it, looked inside and somehow, someway, my body said, ‘No.’ And somehow, by some force that didn’t seem to come from me, I closed the door and walked down to Library Mall and just sat by the fountain and watched people.”

     “You skipped class?!”

     “Yup, I did! Now, what I said about skipping classes to do the homework, that’s very true. There are just times where I felt that the little time I had would be better spent doing the work then sitting listening to a lecture. But, on this day…that morning at least, I just did…nothing. Now, it’s nothing I make a habit of and it was a great day but I think my body was telling me to unplug a little. So I did.”

     “Wow!” she exhaled incredulously.

     “Do me a favor please…just don’t tell my parents because if they knew I had even skipped one class, they would tag-team me until I was 38!”

     “Your secret is safe with me.”

     “Mariah…I really, really hate to do this but speaking of unplugging, I’ve reached then end of my show and I have to get a couple tunes before we go off the air.”

     “Oh…do you need me to hang up?”

     “Please don’t. Not just yet. Would you hang on for another minute though?”

     “Sure.”

     It was a magical night and Mariah deeply meant what she had said about the adventures of that very morning feeling like they had transpired a year in the past. In fact, she has felt as if she had gone further through her metamorphosis and her emergence into that person she wanted to become was even more of a reality. Listening to the song on the radio, she began to sway against the wall, swinging the telephone cord languorously to the beat, feeling so charmed and lifted by the night, the soundtrack and the conversation. It had to end, of course but maybe there was some way to carry it with her.

     “I’m back,” said Craig returning to the phone.

     “What song is this?”

     “This is ‘They Never Will Know’ by Marshall Crenshaw.”

     “It’s pretty.”

     “Yeah, I love it too.”

     “Look…did you say that you tape your shows?”

     “Yeah.”

     “I was wondering. Do you think there would be a way to make a copy for me?”

     “Absolutely!! I can do it right after I go off the air.”

     “Oh you don’t have to go to that kind of trouble. You could just send it to me. Rhett knows my address.”

     “It’s fine. I’d be so happy to do it.”

     “Why…thank you,” she said, genuinely touched by the gesture.

     “I actually have to go this time, Mariah. I have to talk on the air now.”

     “Oh! Well…let me let you go then.”

     “Yeah,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

     “I really hope that we can talk again soon, Craig. Thank you so much again for last night and this morning. If most people on this campus are anything like you, then this will be a very rewarding experience for me.”

     “I…I don’t know what to say,” said a deeply affected Craig. “Um…thank you, Mariah. I really hope we can talk again soon too.”

     “Well…bye and good night,” she said sweetly.

     “Good night to you too.”

     They hung up.

     As the final notes faded into the night’s airwaves, Craig breathed a long, soulful sigh. To what he owed for receiving a wonderful exchange such as this he did not know and for a moment, he actually questioned if Mariah even knew to whom she was speaking.

     Mariah was also in a state of afterglow only returning to the present by the sleepy grumblings of Rhett, who was now stirring on his bed.

     “Did you say something?” he croaked.

     Mariah answered him with the most bashful of smiles. She wasn’t ready to divulge just yet.

     The following morning as Rhett was preparing to escort Mariah back to the bus destined for Minneapolis, Mariah made a discovery that allowed her to contain the previous evening’s magic to herself a bit longer. It sat just outside of Rhett’s door. Addressed to her was a cassette containing the entirety of Craig’s radio show, which only ended hours earlier. Along with completely annotated details of the songs and artists, there was a brief note.

     “Just as requested here is last night’s show. Thank you so very much. I had a great time! Have a safe trip
back home and I really do hope we cross paths again once you come to Madison.

                                                                                        Take care,
                                                                                            Craig”

     There was so much to ponder and wonder as she rode home. She indeed felt as certain as before. She would be attending college in Madison in just a few short months, which of course felt eons away due to her intense anticipation.

     Mariah Esposito completed high school in early June sailing though her final exams with a focus that even amazed her already proud parents. She quickly attained a summer job to assist with payment for her upcoming school supplies and books and by August, she was more than ready. As she stepped from her home into her parents’ car for the drive into her future, she celebrated the time by listening again to her cassette, on which the final song was directed exclusively to her. It was indeed “All the Young Dudes,” where Craig introduced with a sweet, “Even the familiar is new somewhere for someone.”

    How true, she thought. Mariah listened to the show and the song in particular over and over. While she would mostly be unsure as to the song original meaning, she felt that for her, it was a song of the future. One that she was bursting to meet head on.

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