I found a Bill Evans record in the bookcase and was listening to it while drying my hair when I realized that it was the record I had played in Naoko's room on the night of her birthday, the night she cried and I took her in my arms. That had happened only six months earlier, but it felt like something from a much remoter past. Maybe it felt that way because I had thought about it so often-too often, to the point where it had distorted my sense of time.
The narrator reflects on a memory tied to a specific Bill Evans record, which brings back strong emotions associated with Naoko's birthday. As he listens to the music, he recalls a poignant moment when he comforted her after she cried, evoking a deep sense of nostalgia. Although the memory is recent, it feels distant, highlighting the way emotions can warp our perception of time.
This reflection illustrates the theme of how significant experiences can linger in our minds, influencing our emotional landscape. What was once a mere six months ago now feels like a distant past, suggesting that the intensity of feelings can make time feel disjointed for the individual.