To My Younger Self

Spotify selected the tune and it hit me. The opening riff of Kashmir. It wasn’t just a song. It was a time machine that yanks you backward into a memory so vivid you can feel it. This one took me to an afternoon that’s burned into my brain. This was a day, like many in my teen years, I skipped class with my best friend, Chris. A day that actually could’ve gone very differently.

To My Younger Self,

I wanted something electric. I wanted afternoons that felt like they could stretch forever. I wanted the kind of freedom that didn’t care about consequences, that came with fast cars and open roads. I wanted to sit in the passenger seat of a 1970 Camaro with the smell of burning weed hanging in the air, and notice the water from a lake sitting and reflecting in silence just outside. 

I wanted moments where nothing mattered but the rhythm in my head. So I began tapping my knees to a song that only I could hear. I flicked the roach out.

Chris was one of those guys who could roll a joint with Willy Nelson precision. So that’s what he did. He too could turn silence into a jam session. 

I wanted friends who didn’t question the why of skipping class or parking by the water. I wanted Led Zeppelin lyrics sung out of tune, busted stereos that couldn’t kill the vibe, and the ridiculous, wonderful idea that the world could shrink to the size of a Camaro.

I wanted to feel alive and I did. 

There was static in the air. A terrifying hum before the flash. A bolt of lightning. It hits a light pole right next to us, shaking the car, and stunning us into silence. 

Somehow, I wanted the kind of fear that feels like a punch to the chest, the kind you laugh about later when you’re speeding off, too wired to speak. You just look ahead and move.

I knew that song, Kashmir, would mean more than just music. It’s a memory, a moment, a link to everything we thought we were back then and everything that we became.

And maybe I didn’t know it at the time, but I wanted the years to pass and leave me with something I could go back to. A story that wasn’t just a story. A song that wasn’t just a song. Something that could still make me feel the buzz, the beat, the flash, the Camaro, and Chris’ never ending ways to entertain and laugh.

I wanted it all to matter, and somehow, it still does…