As I meander down today’s literary path, my mind’s in a poetic place. The catalyst to these notions yours truly’s inability to shake the refrain The Way We Were from my neurological corridors.

The Alan Peterson/Marilyn Peterson/Marvin Hamlisch Academy Award winning collaboration currently repeat playing in my cranial jukebox. The tune, mooted as resurrecting Barbra Streisand’s career, penned for the 1973 eponymously named movie.

The refrains mood, pace and narrative underpinned with a melancholy borne from the capricious relationship played out by Streisand and Robert Redford’s characters. Words talking of memories and what might have beens; beautifully and emotively sung by the New York born diva.

What actually catapulted these song lyrics into my conscious mind is uncertain. However, I suspect the notion was partly driven by housesitting my marital home for the last week. A domain where I’d lived for twenty three years prior to, fourteen months ago, escaping a toxic marriage; moving out to live at my mothers abode.

Despite that toxicity and lingering negativity, I’ve many happy memories of this place, which I’m currently housesitting at the request of my estranged wife. Episodes which metaphorically brought cheese, wine and a container of salt & vinegar flavoured Pringles.

This a house that was never short of laughter. Although the frequency diminished somewhat after the kids fled the nest. My (now) estranged wife’s cancer diagnosis and me trying to usurp her misery by suffering a heart attack quite understandably reigned in the residence’s brio levels.

It’d be fair to say Karen and me were never enjoyed a loving, affectionate marriage. Our idea of a date night indoors was to load the dishwasher together. Although occasionally the romance took to a higher plateau in the shape of emptying it after the wash’d concluded.

I’m not bitter, though….. Ok then, I clearly must be a bit bitter. After all, I’d not be sharing such candid revelations if I was fully over the situation.

I’ve no memories of a loving marriage, but I have a plethora of recollections of happy times despite being party to this mismatched betrothal. Top of that list the two fantastic children we raised.

Things definitely weren’t all that bad. After all, her mum and dad hardly visited, which was a boon. Their daughter suffering from incurable cancer at 44 couldn’t even send them the 90 miles down the A1 to visit their stricken offspring our their grandchildren……Nah, I’m not bitter!!

Right, yours truly is feeling romantic, I’m off to fill the dishwasher with my breakfast pots…… I’ll leave you with the aforementioned emotive lyrics of Peterson/Peterson & Hamlisch’s refrain, The Way We Were………..

Memories
Light the corners of my mind
Misty watercolor memories
Of the way we were

Scattered pictures
Of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another
For the way we were

Can it be that it was all so simple then
Or has time rewritten every line?
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me, would we? Could we?

Memories
May be beautiful and yet
What’s too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget

So it’s the laughter
We will remember
Whenever we remember
The way we were
The way we were