That's The Air That I Breathe

"Peace came upon me
And it leaves me weak
So sleep, silent angel
Go to sleep..."

—The Hollies, The Air That I Breathe

In the end, he befriended Godzilla, and then Kong got to go home again to the center of the earth. The song “The Air That I Breathe” by the Hollies played while the credits kicked in. 

And I cried a little. Yep, that’s me. 

I was flying home from a work event. My initial flight was canceled due to weather, and thankfully they rebooked me straight through to San Jose, but not without zig-zag stops along the way. At least I didn’t have to change planes. 

So, I decided to watch something light. Being a Saturday, I reviewed the flight movies and decided to on a little Saturday afternoon monster movie matinee. Just like I used to do a home as a kid. I chose the recent Godzilla vs. Kong for some mindless fun, after already seeing the preceding series of movies that led to this ultimate monster battle.

I actually cried two times during the movie. Once when Kong had learned sign language and signed that he wanted to go home, and again at the end when he finally got to go home and be at peace. 

For those who know me, I’m a crier. I cry about anything that moves me, no matter how cheesy the movie. In fact, anytime we watch a show or movie at home together, my oldest Beatrice looks over at me and asks, “Are you crying, Dad?”

And most of the time, I am.

But this time it was more about The Hollies' song than the movie. The song became a rushing river that dislodged old memories from my memory banks and moved them quickly along frothing eddies and treacherous currents. It’s one of many songs that have haunted me since I was little. And although the song is literally about romantic love, I didn't understand that as a child, and so I associated it with everything going on around me—any love and lack thereof. How it made me feel growing up with domestic violence and abuse—simultaneously scared, sad, lonely, hopeful, and longing to be happy. Of other life events over the years that kept me bobbing in and out of the emotional rushing river. Of how I feel sometimes today missing my family when I travel. 

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you…

The rushing river slows and smooths out to still glass, and all the memories resettle. Again, I’m on my way home from another work trip, only one of a few since the pandemic started. I’m grateful for the work I do, and the work Amy does, and the fact that we can provide for our family. I like the travel and that I can get out there again, to see industry friends, to learn new things and grow professionally and personally. 

After mindlessly watching Kong and Godzilla fight and destroy cities on my plane ride home, I caught up with one of my news shows. The depressing stream of news, like The Hollies' song, got me thinking again about when I was little, and other times throughout my life, and the fact that we don't always choose the air that we breathe—deadly viruses, pollution, toxic relationships, violence, war. 

More than 2.5 million Ukrainian refugees have fled their country looking for safety. I can't imagine, do not want to imagine, what that's been like for those families. Especially those who have to separate for who knows how long, or worse, for those who've been injured or killed. 

I just cannot imagine it, and yet, we continue to watch it in real time. I miss Amy and our daughters terribly when I’m away, even if it’s for only a couple of nights, especially after being together so much during the pandemic. But to be separated because of a war? No way. That thought brought even more tears than Kong (and me) wanting to go home did.

The night before I came home from this trip, I had a video call with my family, and our youngest Bryce kept messing with the FaceTime filters, which I didn’t even know you could do. 

“You goofs. I love you,” I said.

Then I thought, That’s the air that I breathe. That’s all that I need.

"So sleep, silent angel, go to sleep..."

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