I was at home one day when my mother rang me.
We shared news and as we did, I felt she was tormented with worries.
I tried to find the right words to comfort her.
Once we had hung up I experienced a deep feeling of revolt growing inside my guts. A strong will to take her hand and climb with her to the top of a cliff and together with her, face her demons. The closer they would come from us and the louder we would yell at them, still holding hands, crush them with the strength of our will and of our voices, until they would explode into small dark glitters that would ¬†fly into the air then fall down below, into the ocean..
Or, in more pragmatic terms, what I wanted to tell my mother was : “Do you remember the time you came back from the hairdresser’s very unhappy, and came complaining to me about your hair cut, instead of telling the hairdresser himself? .. What did it help, really?”
Whatever the demon, you name it. A big one, a small one. Where there is one there will come more. It is the death of a beloved one, a work colleague who harasses you, some feeling of low self-esteem, or a hair-dresser who cuts your hair in an improbable way‚Ä¶ They will have to fall down into the ocean, or you will.
This is what I wish I had told my mother, yet the moment was gone.
So I grabbed a pen instead and I wrote the song. – Eilera