Buried Treasure

Saturday, August 27, 2011

I cleaned out the laundry room last weekend, and amidst that, uncovered our old CD collection. Christopher moved the pile from the floor below the canned goods shelf, to the kitchen table- and there they've sat all week long.

I'll get around to sorting through battered MxPx jewel cases later.

But yesterday as I was passing by, I noticed a familiar shape resting on the top, so stopped to take a peek.



A mixed tape.

Remember the days of mixed tapes? Rewinding, fast forwarding, and flipping sides. And having the time, to put them together?

Christopher must have made this one for me when we lived in our old Apartment on Morrison St in Portland. We had a big stereo in our sunken living room, next to our giant fluffy seated retro curved sectional, where I imagine him standing in his tight jeans and blue zip up hoodie, pressing record every couple of minutes, while he sifted through old magazines that we had gotten from the bins.

We were awesome back then, in a way similar to our awesomeness now, only, maybe with a little bit more energy and style to our stagger.



Look at the date on the top of the play list. It says 1/26/06. Which means this mix tape was for no particular reason. And I guess thats what makes it so awesome. Gifts when given on holidays, especially from boyfriends/girlfriends/husbands/whatever, are expected, and therefor hold a little less meaning.

But this was a just-because present. I don't remember him giving it to me, but after picking it up in my hands, I remember listening to it. And I remember all of the details of everything around me that played along with the lyrics to each and every track.

Velour track suits. Coffee people and Steph's house. Scrabble, scrabble, scrabble. Halloween lights year round, Coheed and Cambria on repeat because nothing else ever fit the mood the way they did. The windshield wipers being more constant than anything else in our lives, smoked salmon cream cheese on asiago cheese bagels from the Zupans across the street, and working minimum wage jobs during the day, and coming home to each other at night.

Mix tape = happy Tia.

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