La Suite

Lyrics

I'm making a list.
Of the day.
Our day.

The beginning is so clear.
The first item on the list.
The way you stirred your coffee, clockwise.
The sound of the spoon against the ceramic, a small, perfect bell.
Rue Froide, eight a.m.
You said my name.
That part is etched. Stored somewhere safe.
It had all the time in the world to find a home.

But I have the first line, and I have the last.
The opening note and the final silence.
The suite of hours in between...
A smudge of ink, a murmur in the hall.
I know it happened.
I just can't recall the middle of it all.

The hours between noon and four...
They feel like nonsense syllables.
Like 'DAX'. Or 'BOK'.
Just sounds I know were spoken.
I can feel the shape of the laughter, but not the joke.
The warmth of the sun through the window, but not what we saw.
It was pushed aside by what came next.
It didn't have the glamour of the start.

And I have the first line, and I have the last.
The opening note and the final silence.
The suite of hours in between...
A smudge of ink, a murmur in the hall.
I know it happened.
I just can't recall the middle of it all.

Mary Calkins knew it in 1896.
She watched them try.
Pencil hovering over the recall sheet.
"A marked superiority," she wrote,
"for the first and the last."
And if I just count backwards from ten...
even the goodbye fades.
Just for a moment.
The fresh paint pushed out by the distraction.

But it comes back.
Your hand on the door.
The final look.
The last item on the list.
Still warm in my hands.
As clear as the first bell.
And the middle... the middle...
is just the quiet hum between them.