July on a cold January night.

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One bleak, black night, we sped along the highway through the dull plains of eastern Colorado when I heard a song I will never forget. I was sitting in the backseat of my parents’ station wagon, Mom and Dad up front. We were headed to Iowa to return me to college after winter break in my Colorado hometown. In typical parental fashion, NPR was the radio station of choice. The current program was introducing musicians and their new albums. Tonight, the host described the folk singer/songwriter Laura Veirs and her album titled “July Flame”. To really get a taste of her style, he played the title track. With our eyes bored from darkness and flat plains, our ears were captive to the sounds. It’s a beautiful song, but what made it unforgettable was how the mood and the meaning behind it were so perfectly in tune with my life at the moment.

The mystical sound fit the scenery surprisingly well. It was ironic, no doubt, introducing a song called “July Flame” in January. But somehow the steady, beating toms and haunting electric guitar evoked the barren cold of the landscape around us. Then the wistful, echoing female voice sang in lyrics, poetic yet concise: “July Flame, I’m seeing fireworks, they’re so beautiful, tell me why it hurts?” Aching loneliness—that’s what made the song like the scenery. “Can I call you mine? Can I call you mine?” the chorus pleaded softly.

The sound mirrored the feelings inside me too. I had just seen B over Winter Break and told him I liked him again. He hadn’t replied… which hurt, but I understood. I had turned the tables, since I’d been the one to break it off with him a few years prior. He might not trust me enough to try again. I just had to tell him how I felt, in person, before I left. Still, it was rather new experience for me, this uncertain love making my heart sore as I left for another semester of college, states away. “Can I call you mine?” the artist sang over the radio again. The song’s feeling wasn’t just loneliness, but recalled any kind of emptiness that longed to be filled.

The July theme of the song resonated too. It fit in many ways: We spent much of our time together during summers off from school. His birthday is in July. More than that, we’d started dating in July the first time around, so he’d already been my July flame once. And, perhaps most importantly, July represented warmth in contrast to this cold winter and my empty arms.

Amazingly, July would continue to be significant to us: a few months later, Ben became interested in me again and I accepted his offer to date steadily again on July 4^th of that year. Fireworks indeed… but year-round now that he’s my husband. But in a way, that flame first warmed me on a January night amidst the desolate plains.

You see? You were my July Flame. Only you.

It was too perfect a song not to ascribe it to you.

You were, and still are,

the July flame to my cold January.

For my love,

Ellen H.

P.S. To listen to this wonderful song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iLilpPtY2JU

Lyrics:

July flame
Fiery kite
Will-o-the-Wisp
Lead me through the night

July flame
Sweet summer peach
High up in the branch
Just out of my reach

Can I call you mine?...

July flame
I'm seeing fireworks
They're so beautiful
Tell me why it hurts

July flame
Ashes of a secret heart
Falling in my lemonade
Unslakable thirsting in the backyard

Can I call you mine?...