Please release me let me go
For I don't love you anymore
To waste our lives would be a sin
Release me and let me love again
I have a memory from childhood. One of my mother, sitting in our parlor, in the dark, listening to a song play over and over on the stereo. The song was Please Release Me and it was written by Dub Williams, Eddie Miller, Robert Yount. Many artists have recorded the song but the album she was playing that day was one by Jim Reeves. Every time I hear that song my mind goes right to that memory.
I can still see her now, sitting there in the dark, on a club chair with her legs tucked underneath her. The only light in the room the glowing tip of her burning cigarette. I can still hear the sound she made as she inhaled, paused, and then slowly exhaled the smoke through her lips. I am standing in the front hall, having just come down the stairs. I know she can't see me so I remain there, watching, for a very long time.
Please release me let me go
For I don't love you anymore
To waste a life would be a sin
So release me and let me love again
This memory has been with me for nearly forty years. An image of my mother in what was, I'd imagine, a very private and painful moment. It was a rare glimpse for me, into the life of an extremely private woman. One I find myself more like as each year passes.
My mother is an attractive and interesting woman. She never seemed to be like my friend's mothers. She had a simple style, she was quiet and very private. She never called attention to herself yet one couldn't help but notice her. She made the other mothers seem pale in comparison. At least to me they did. To this day so much about her is a mystery to me, a mystery I am recognizing in myself.
For I don't love you anymore
To waste our lives would be a sin
Release me and let me love again
I have a memory from childhood. One of my mother, sitting in our parlor, in the dark, listening to a song play over and over on the stereo. The song was Please Release Me and it was written by Dub Williams, Eddie Miller, Robert Yount. Many artists have recorded the song but the album she was playing that day was one by Jim Reeves. Every time I hear that song my mind goes right to that memory.
I can still see her now, sitting there in the dark, on a club chair with her legs tucked underneath her. The only light in the room the glowing tip of her burning cigarette. I can still hear the sound she made as she inhaled, paused, and then slowly exhaled the smoke through her lips. I am standing in the front hall, having just come down the stairs. I know she can't see me so I remain there, watching, for a very long time.
Please release me let me go
For I don't love you anymore
To waste a life would be a sin
So release me and let me love again
This memory has been with me for nearly forty years. An image of my mother in what was, I'd imagine, a very private and painful moment. It was a rare glimpse for me, into the life of an extremely private woman. One I find myself more like as each year passes.
My mother is an attractive and interesting woman. She never seemed to be like my friend's mothers. She had a simple style, she was quiet and very private. She never called attention to herself yet one couldn't help but notice her. She made the other mothers seem pale in comparison. At least to me they did. To this day so much about her is a mystery to me, a mystery I am recognizing in myself.
I wondered then what she was doing sitting there like that. I couldn't possibly conceive of what might have been on her mind. Not at that age, but I can now. I can wonder now...was she at a crossroads? Was she struggling with her marriage, her life? Who did she need release from? My father? Another man? A past love? Someone she may have wanted a relationship with but couldn't have? Clearly she was working through something, having a moment within herself. A very private moment. I'll never know what she was thinking that day. I'll never know if she found her release. I do know that I hope for her sake that she did. I dearly hope she did.
Please release me can't you see
You'd be a fool to cling to me
To live a lie would bring us pain
So release me and let me love again
I understand that sitting in the dark, having done it myself. I understand struggling, understand a need for self examination and a search for direction. I understand private thoughts, a private life. I understand beyond her mystery, I understand my own mystery.
I understand.
Indeed
Indeed
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