Production: Nujabes - Flowers (Modal Soul)
My peoples, I am ashamed. It's been a little over a year since my last post, way too long to go without posting new music, and especially way too long considering I was trying to go back to releasing four tracks a month!
In all honesty though, I realized that my initial goal of creating and releasing new songs so often was a bit too lofty for me. I was starting to write songs I wasn't particularly feeling just to get something out, and I can't release something I'm not at least a little proud of. Ya'll deserve much better than that. With that being said, this is the return of the Monthly Quarterly in name only, it'll actually be more like a Quarterly now (though the name is staying, I like it).
This beat, "Flowers", by Nujabes, is one I've been wanting to write to for a long time, and I wanted to do it justice. I believe that I have, and so this is "Half a Bouquet", my third "Micro-novel", and the first to grace volume two. I hope ya'll enjoy it, and be sure to be on the look out for more new music soon. I promise it won't be another year (11 months TOPS, hahaha).
(Lyrics)
Yup, he wanted to get her flowers, so he went down to the store. Today was the day to get them and though he was kind of poor, he didn't mind spending an extra dime so that he could be sure, that when she looked down it would be the kind that she adored. Because those flowers, were actually hard to find. He had to go to couple of shops to find the right kind, and though he couldn't quite afford a dozen he bought five, for which he just had enough. He laughed, it was a good sign. With the bouquet clutched tight to his chest, he walked up the subway steps, his mind sort of a mess. He didn't know what he would say when he was there, so looking up to the sky he muttered a small prayer.
Lost in his thoughts, he forgot where he was, and when you stand in front of a subway door you're bound to get shoved. He almost dropped the flowers, fumbled them, but made it on the train, not noticing that only three remained.
So try not to fantasize,
About trying to go back, trying to rewind.
The past is easy to romanticize.
Thinking that you'd do it all different if you could try.
But the flowers are always going to grow.
Enjoy them while they're in bloom;
Don't mourn them when they go.
If you treat them well you'll see they left some seeds to sow
When life closes the door, it opens a window.
Flowers were always special to him, as they were special to her. She had them tattooed on her shoulder. Some were beautiful, some unconventionally so. She'd say that beauty lies in the eye of the beholder.
"Flowers don't have to be pretty," She'd say. "As long as they're taken care of, they'll show beauty in their own way."
It wasn't only flowers that this applied to, and as he got older he realized it applied to people too.
Flowers have a way of making people smile, so when he got to his stop and saw a crying child, looking up at the sky at the dot of her balloon, he knelt down beside and said,
"I lost my balloon too. You see these flowers? I'll trade you one for a smile. I got them for my mom, I haven't seen her in a while."
He held out a flower as she smiled and wiped her eyes, she took it and held it as if it was a new prize.
So try not to fantasize,
About trying to go back, trying to rewind.
The past is easy to romanticize.
Thinking that you'd do it all different if you could try.
But the flowers are always going to grow.
Enjoy them while they're in bloom;
Don't mourn them when they go.
If you treat them well you'll see they left some seeds to sow
When life closes the door, it opens a window.
The sun was setting by the time he started walking. He picked up his pace; he didn't want to be late. Ignoring sidewalk merchants, he certainly wasn't stopping. He was aiming to get there by seven, now it was eight.
Regardless, he did stop when a homeless woman asked for some help. She wasn't proud of it, and from the sound of her voice you could tell.
"I wish I could, but all I have are these flowers," he replied. "I got them for my mom," he said with a heavy sigh.
"That's so sweet," She said. "what a nice young man. I'm sure your mama is especially proud of that."
"Would you like one?" he asked. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind. She'll appreciate the one, though I started out with five."
The woman smiled, and took it from his out stretched hand.
"I really do appreciate it. Thank you young man."
The boy smiled back, said good luck and goodbye. Looked at the one remaining flower, started walking and sighed.
Finally, he arrived at the gate. It creaked as it opened, losing several chips of paint. He hadn't been here in a while, a fact that made him ashamed, but still, better late than never, his mom would always say.
Despite that, he remembered the path, a right turn at the ash, straight until the brook over pass.
He placed the flower on the headstone marking her grave, and ran his hand along the the etchings engraved. They were her favorite flowers.
