Zombie

I was just driving through the park, and the Cranberries’ song “Zombie” came on the radio, and I was thrown back to a time before I knew you, and Maud and I would drive around L.A. in Gil’s brother-in-law’s old Porche 914 (one the boxy ones made by Volkswagon), and we’d listen to this song A LOT. Maud must have been seven or eight or nine—a little blonde with a great sense of humor and an outsized love for me—and we’d ride close the road, and sing “Zom-bie, Zom-bie, Zom-beh-eh-eh.” This was before I loved you—when I had this phosphorescent little kid, and Gil was still my good friend, and Scout wasn’t even born yet and you were just starting out, unsuspecting. It’s like thinking about before we were all born. It’s like thinking about all-pervasive peace of mind.