She was the voice of my youthful longing, the one who helped me feel like I wasn’t going insane up in my bedroom with the ivy covered windows and the exposed radiator. I loved Carly. I loved her wide smile on album covers. I loved her hippy purses and floppy hats. I loved that she married James Taylor and mourned when they got divorced.
I haven’t thought of her in a long time. The only music I listen to lately is something fast enough to keep me running. But I noticed today when I was checking the rundown that sweet Carly turns 65 today. And I stopped. I want to think of her, to remember what she gave me 30 years ago, and what she gives me still.
She gave me Boys in the Trees . . . “Do you go to them or do you let them come to you? Do you stand in back afraid that you’ll intrude? Deny yourself and hope someone will see . . .” And she gave me Coming Around Again. . . “I know nothing stays the same, but if you`re willing to play the game, it`s coming around again. So don`t mind if I fall apart
there`s more room in a broken heart . . .” And she gave me the anthem of all of us who had our hearts broken by HIM . . . “You`re so vain, you probably think this song is about you. You`re so vain. I`ll bet you think this song is about you
Don`t you? Don`t You?”
I miss my sister. I miss singing to Carly with her. I miss the way the willow trees would rub up against my sister’s window. I miss reading The Secret Garden and dreaming about the boy down the street. But I don’t miss Carly any more. She’s right here.
In my ipod.