The Best of Times

I know, I know. Two songs from Styx in one week?! What can I say? I don't control it, not consciously, anyway. But as the sun was coming out this morning, this song began playing internally:

Our memories of yesterday will last a lifetime
We'll take the best, forget the rest
And someday we'll find these are the best of times
These are the best of times

I tried to ignore it, to block it out. Still too sleepy. Not ready to face the day. I don't have any window coverings in my bedroom, so I tied a dark-colored shirt around my eyes and tried to go back to sleep. No such luck. I could block the light, but the music would not cease:

Tonight's the night we'll make history, honey, you and I
And I'll take any risk to tie back the hands of time
And stay with you here tonight...

I'm having trouble understanding why this is the song choice for today. I think the likelihood that my love and I will make history tonight, manage to tie back the hands of time, or even stay with one another is pretty slim. I remember hearing this song back in the day. (I was 11 when the footage was taken in this video.) I distinctly remember, with my preadolescent brain, contemplating "making history" with my lover.

But the best explanation I can come up with for this song selection this morning has to do with a conversation I had yesterday with a friend. The gist of it was that all of it -- being wracked with sobs when faced with separation from a lover, fighting with our kids -- constitutes a life being lived:

Our memories of yesterday will last a lifetime
We'll take the best, forget the rest
And someday we'll find these are the best of times
These are the best of times

The best of times and the worst of times are sometimes, or maybe even always, if we really take a zen perspective, all rolled into one. I spent much of yesterday reading coverage of the Boston Marathon bombings, and it seems like many Bostonians are feeling that acutely:

I know you feel these are the worst of times
I do believe it's true
When people lock their doors and hide inside
Rumor has it it's the end of paradise
But I know, if the world just passed us by
Baby I know, you wouldn't have to cry

The headlines read 'these are the worst of times'
I do believe it's true
I feel so helpless like a boat against the tide
I wish the summer winds could bring back paradise
But I know, if the world turned upside down
Baby, I know you'd always be around

Maybe sometimes always being around doesn't get to remain manifested in the physical plane. I reckon that's one of the hardest things about a loss of any kind, whether it's a death or just a parting:

Our memories of yesterday will last a lifetime
We'll take the best, forget the rest
And someday we'll find these are the best of times
These are the best of times...