(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay // Otis Redding


Why this song is the best song of all time.

It says hello as kindly as it says farewell. It isn’t the bit narcissistic but as familiar as an old story told by your grandfather. It knows when to pause and listen. It whistles while it works but it’s only job is to sit and watch the waves roll in; even they are delicate and equable. Kind eyes are the hearth and home of a vacation spot. Warm feet crush softly as they trek against gritty sand. Lips kiss crevices on shoulders that are tanned and tender. Growing old — while fitting to think as a theme — is really too far away from the present. It wants to waste indefinite time in the tide, trying hard to stay clear of focus. There is no one or nothing to miss. Why miss anything when you have the morning sun as a guide til evenin’ come?

Otis knew how to live. He let his skin adapt to the winds and measures while keeping an ongoing tempo within heartbeats. I will waste so much time on the dock that my bones will be more than rested. The dock will be my home. And if you come back ’round, maybe you’ll stay awhile too. But if I never see you again, I’ll be there with myself — hands, eyes, heart, and hips — ready. There is comfort in my heavy eyes as I write this from the floor of my dining room on my makeshift bed. And this current dock, while not the steadiest, is definitely one of the most understanding.

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