Everything But The Girl "Missing"

I had the strangest sensation as I drove by my old girlfriend's house.

My friend Tip had let me know that he would be visiting the East Coast with his kids and new wife, so I made plans to trek up to Rockport earlier this week for a visit with his family and my two small kids.

Tip had sent me directions, but I didn't give them too much thought until I pulled crossed the bridge into Gloucester, which I'd have to pass through on the way to Rockport.  I'd crossed that bridge many times in my early 20s, going to visit the girl from Gloucester that I dated through the end of college and into the first couple years of real life.

Mom always said, "Everybody gets one heartbreak," and this girl was it for me.  We had a deep relationship, and when it ended (and, to put the blame squarely in the right place, the end of things was largely my doing and fault), I was rudderless for a pretty long time.  Years, even.

It took me years just suss out where I had gone wrong, and more years to figure out how I was going to be a better person.  Years before the thought of her wasn't painful.  And years before every little damn thing---book, tv show, song, catchphrase, landmark, coffee cup, article of clothing, et cetera ad finitum---didn't remind me of her.

In my rudderless period, in the years I was living in Virginia, I had a roommate, who had the gone through the same kind of experience.  And for him, there was a house that he'd go by where all the good times had happened.  He'd drive by there and know that someone else lived there now and life had moved on.

When "Missing" came out, it struck a chord with him, and he'd play it when we was down.

I step off the train
I'm walkin' down your street again
And pass your door
But you don't live there anymore
It's years since you've been there
And now you've disappeared somewhere
Like outer space
You've found some better place

And because he played it often, whenever I heard it (mvy used to play it) I'd think of him and then think of me in my rudderless years.

So there I was, following Tip's directions to the beach house he had rented, realizing that I knew these streets, thinking that certainly the map would tell me to turn left at some point where I used to turn right.

But it didn't.  And soon I could see the hill that her house was on, off in the distance, coming closer.

This wouldn't be the first time I had gone by her house since our break-up.  At some point in the rudderless period, when I was home from Virginia visiting my folks, I was restless, unable to sleep.  I took the car and drove from my folks place in Newburyport, along the long and winding Route 1A until I reached the house where her parents lived, where I'd gone to visit her when we were on college break.  I knew she didn't live there, so I don't know what I was looking for, but I felt so sad inside.

She lived within walking distance of the beach, so I parked my car and stood on the sand.  It was late, but there was a woman off in the moonlit distance.  I knew there was no way it could possibly be my old girlfriend, but my mind kept telling me that, yeah, maybe it could be.  Then another voice from inside said, what if it is?  That thought terrified me.  I got back in my car and drove to Newburyport, far worse off, mentally, than when I'd just been restless in bed.

I wasn't thinking about this as I turned off my route to meet Tip, to get a look at the house.

I looked into the back seat and smiled at my kids.  "Daddy used to have a friend that lived in this neighborhood."

The house, on the whole, looked the same as it ever did, with a well-kept yard and a pretty set of bushes and a sloping driveway that tucked behind the house.

On the porch was a gigantic Red Sox banner.  And I knew right away that her parents must not live there anymore---that really wasn't their style.

I kept driving past, and got back on the route to see Tip.

I had the strangest sensation, as I drove away.

Nothing.

I didn't feel sadness.  Or pain.  Or regret.  Or hurt.

I had some warm memories of fun times we had, but it felt so far in the fuzzy past, that I couldn't help but notice that the feeling I was feeling, was missing.


Hear the song on Youtube.