Author’s Note
This month, The Serious Moonlight pays homage to my favorite rock-n-roller, Tom Petty. So, I’m planning four posts for April using lyrics from his songs that have long intrigued and inspired me. This is post #3 - I hope you enjoy it!
To learn about the genesis of The Serious Moonlight, click HERE.
You can find the first “Petty Post” HERE and the second one HERE.
Also, I have another Substack that highlights some of my favorite photography books. Check out On My Stand HERE
Oh, I'm an insider || I've been burned by the fire
Yes, and I've had to live with some hard promises || I've crawled through the briars -Tom Petty, Insider
You can read the story behind the story in The Liner Notes the end of this piece - or you can choose to “pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.”
The Weighting
Then Peter came to him and asked, “Lord, how often should I forgive someone who sins against me? Seven times?”
“No, not seven times,” Jesus replied, “But seventy times seven.” - Matthew 18:21-22
The boy was rifling through the clothes in the backseat when he asked the woman, “How many times again?”
“Seventy times seven,” she answered.
“That’s what the book says?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered. “That’s what the book says.”
“Is that why you have that number on your arm?” the boy asked, taking hold of her wrist and turning it over so the tattoo was lit by the streetlight.
“It’s a reminder to me,” she answered.
The boy gently traced his finger over the faded green ink. “Four hundred-ninety. I wonder how many times he has left?”
She placed her had on top of his. “I think the number is more of a idea that when you make a promise you have to keep it - even if it means keeping it over and over and over.”
“What kind of promise did you make?” he asked.
“Oh, things like loving someone for better or worse, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer. And to forgive - especially to forgive.”
“Well,” the boy said, letting her arm fall. “I didn’t make any promises to anyone.”
The woman smiled and tousled his light blond hair. “No, you didn’t, honey. Those promises were all mine.”
The boy rolled down the car window and stuck his head out, peering down the dimly-lit alley. “Do you think he’ll come back?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
“How do you know?”
“Because he always does.”
The boy pulled his head back into the car and said nothing. Both woman and child sat in the front seat and stared into the darkness.
I think the number is more of a idea that when you make a promise you have to keep it - even if it means keeping it over and over and over.
“It feels heavy to me,” the boy said finally.
“What does?” she answered.
“Keeping promises. They feel heavy, like there’s a weight on you that you have to lift off. And then when you get it off, they put it right back on you.”
“It can be like that, yes.” she said, still staring through the windshield.
“Do you think he knows how close he is to four hundred-ninety?”
“Probably not,” she said, looking at the boy’s silhouetted profile against the backlit window.
The boy slouched down in the seat and closed his eyes. “Well I think somebody should be keeping track of it.”
Liner Notes
I’ve had the lines, “and I’ve had to live with some hard promises,” on my list to write about for a long time now. I was first attracted to the lyric because of the soft rhyming of “had to LIVE with some hard proMISES.” But after a while, the idea of “hard promises” has stuck with me.
We all make promises that are hard - hard to keep, hard to give up on, hard to move past. We can even be haunted by these promises. I wanted this story to honor keeping promises even when they are hard - even when it’s easier to give up. I put the boy in the story because I also wanted to capture what it’s like when other people (innocent people?) are impacted by our promises - by promises they had nothing to do with. And to perhaps suggest that it’s also okay to NOT continue keeping some promises.
I don’t really know how close the man is to 490, but I get the feeling the boy is indeed keeping track. Memories, after all, weigh a lot.