Remembering

          I'd always loved the sound of Chris Cornell's voice on the radio. Fifteen-minute drives between towns and the words floating by, poetry, the guitar humming along with the voice. Black hole sun, won't you come, and wash away the rain. Something about his music felt like floating. Most times it would be my mother or father driving; I would test myself, guessing whether the same disc would be in the radio or if it was time to swap it out. My aunt loved his voice, too. She loved his lyrics. One day, I rode home with her, following my mother's car. We sat and listened while the train went by; it always took so long. She turned the volume up and relaxed in her seat. "I love this song." When she said it, it wasn't a throwaway phrase. She meant it. I wanted to sing along, too, In your house I long to be.

          I loved the way that words could be music and action at the same time; they were magic to me. So many artists caught my attention for the way they used words, somehow making them greater than the letters they were assembled from. His voice was the one of the few that captured me. I was in love with the way it sounded- the plaintive nature of it, the way he could go from a deep note to a soulful cry. When I listened to him sing, I wanted to lie back on a bed and stare at the stars. I wanted to be somewhere I wasn't yet and have something I couldn't explain. His voice was the backing track to a deep need; some desire to obtain a thing that escaped the concrete box of the world. I always felt like I was on the verge of tears listening to his songs, a tightness in my chest and a sharp inhale awaay from breaking down. Giving in.

          I didn't know when it happened. My mother came home and I'd been writing poetry, delving into my own ability to shape a word and create a rhythm. "Have you heard?" She told me about it as she moved around the house and I listened, feeling just another part of my childhood die a little inside me. So many in the past years. Actors, musicians- artists, all of them. They were the ones I aspired to meet. I can't ever meet him. Explain that my mother loved playing his music when she drove my sibilings and I to the library. Thank him for doing something for people- for making something that will last. That deserves to last.

          For now, I will have to write about Chris Cornell and how his music was always there, always a part of my life. For now, I will have to say thank you to the stars while I'm listening to him sing 'Nothing Compares 2 U' because it's one of my favorite covers. For now, I listen a little harder and look a little closer because I know how you can hide things inside and I know you have to appreciate people every moment that you have them. Words are where he lives now- words and sounds. Those, I will appreciate for the rest of my life.