A morning for the exploding!

Posted on November 19, 2007

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(Know that I’m talking to several people at once. Almost every “you” in here is different from the one before it.)

Something about last night reminded me of December a few years back. Your hands kept mine warm as we walked through the hidden, slumbering, snowy neighborhoods. We talked about pain and the few situations we found ourselves tied up in. Occasionally, we didn’t say anything at all. The other eight or nine people that were walking with us kept up the white noise with their laughing. In our quiet moments we listened to their conversations that seemed to generate out of cold air. We stayed out for hours. When we came back to the house, our noses were red, the bottom of our pant legs were wet from the inches of snow, and I had mascara on my face from the snowflakes that kept melting on my eyelashes. You remember it as well as I do.

I remember you leaving dress rehearsal early because it was your birthday. I didn’t know you very well at the time, but who knew that all would change in four years? You still had a deck of cards on you at all times, you sang the “men” song better/worse than anyone I know, and you almost refused to stop talking backstage. And that was only the beginning!

Yesterday morning was bright and clear. As I sang, steam from my mouth cascaded out into the car while I waited for it to warm up. I was not hungry, had no headaches, and the world was mine to solve. The morning was born for the unlocking of doors and the opening of windows and the explosion of sunlight on our faces. I felt like if I could just connect the right set of two and two that I could unlock something about the human race. I felt very close to it. I knew that the idea and the answer was sitting in the seat next to me and yet for some reason I couldn’t quite see its face.

And maybe that’s just it. The morning was bright and clear . . . But everyone was feeling a little bit blurry.

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