I've always wanted to have a soundtrack to my life. Do you know what I mean? There are those moments in life where the power of life would put you over the edge if the theme music would kick in at just the right moment. You're walking along the beach and you'd love to hear a soft acoustic guitar strum your heart strings. You're standing on top of a mountain and the trumpet's mighty call would be perfection. You're driving along an American highway with the windows down and a good folk song, with a twang and a fiddle, would bring the world back.
anna begins. round here. holiday in spain. mr. jones. miami. up all night.
We're talking over dinner and we come to the conclusion that life is best when it is simple. We realize that simplicity is a beautiful gift. We chomp down on parmesan encrusted french fries and wrap our lips around scallops. We hold hands in front of the waiter. He orders for me. And life can't get any better than year 19. Or so it seems.
Until it's 1am and someone decides that Counting Crows is a necessity.
I can't describe to you what living two different lives is like. I'm sure some of you have an idea. It's similar to time travel. And the stress in my shoulders is from being hit with one of those cartoon anvils. When the flight back to Boston approaches, I get flattened into the ground out of nowhere. I'm sad. I'm sentimental. I ask so many questions.
But I'm starting to think that if simplicity is a gift, and if sometimes God blesses us with those storybook moments in lofts with one light and Counting Crows, then the race is worth running. That reinflating my body after throwing the anvil out of the Anne-shaped hole in the ground has to be done. I go about living. I go about dreaming. I go on seeking the moments in life where joy is no longer just a muscle movement on my face but the very blood that courses through my veins.
"Come on baby. Let's go shut it down in New Orleans..."
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