Loves Diaries: Paul

You're His Blackbird

Paul gets to your house later than expected. You are singing in the kitchen along to your favorite songs. You are just finishing the dishes. You made dinner for the two of you. Every once in a while Paul unexpectedly gets caught up with work especially if he is in the heat of a song with John. He never leaves a writing session with John until they come up with something after all. After ten you packed everything up to put in the fridge minus a plate for Paul in the oven. Since then you've been cleaning up the kitchen slowly while singing along to your favorite vinyls.

Paul hears you so he quietly puts his bag down and tiptoes over to your kitchen. He sees you start dancing a little too. He finds the opportunity to slip into the dance and surprise you. Instead of keeping it up you burst into a fit of giggles.

He starts to protest saying," Noooo, keep singing, please."

You answer with the easy claim, "oh, but you're the singer, sweetie."

"I have to hear the sound of myself singing all day long. It's boring me by now. You're beautiful voice never tires."

"Oh, is that so?"
"It is!" Paul insists. "I think the world would agree too. Such a waste to not share with the people... or at least me."

"Well, that is sweet, but I am tired from singing for the past hour. Even if you like it, I'm sorry, but my throat cannot take the work that yours does without feeling abused."

"Tomorrow?"

"Maybe" you say sheepishly. You mean it too. If you can muster up the courage and it doesn't make you feel silly.

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A few months later, Blackbird is written. There is a local concert where the Beatles will be playing some of their new music. You have a ticket with all of their close friends in the upper room with a good view. They have a fantastic show. You love hearing them all play. The new things that they sprinkled in are genius as always. John, George, and Ringo leave the spotlight, and Paul takes center stage. Just him and his guitar. He gently plays some beautiful chords. And then...

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly"

You know this is meant for you. You would never tell anyone. It feels too intimate to explain. You don't owe any explanation to anyone anyway. He is singing to his precious little songbird. He calls you that when he does pull a song or two from you. He's been able to more these last few months. All that encouragement is hard to refuse. Especially when he pouts. He knows you would never want to change the Beatles, but he does encourage you pretty often to start singing yourself. This is just a little more encouragement for you. Gentle, but firm. Meant with nothing but love.