Have you ever been walking down a busy city street on an unusually warm early March afternoon because your stupid car broke down so you're stuck riding the Washington Metro with people who are too damn stupid to stay home when they have coughs due to cold, arousing the fighting Irish in you by hacking and sniffling all over everybody, specifically you? Which is gross?
And you don't really mind walking the two miles home because there is a soft, warm breeze washing over you, and birds are singing and flitting around in the green haze of the treetops, and the flowers are blooming right before your eyes. And also because you are appropriately dressed for walking, clad in your Casual Friday jeans and tee, shod in comfy yet stylish athletic shoes, sporting oversized (but not ridiculously so) pink sunglasses, and wearing iPod earbud headphones adjusted for hours of maximum listening enjoyment.
Then, as you are walking the long stretch of the main thoroughfare you begin to notice people turning to stare, so you maybe throw a tad more sway into your hips than usual? And then a small, confident smile slowly spreads across your face? And maybe you're strutting, but just a little?
And suddenly the world falls away and all you can hear are the catchy guitar riffs of Jet's Move On-- an early-70's-Stones-style country ballad with kick-ass slide work-- and the lead singer's raw, gritty voice strikes something deep inside, not in the shallow end, but in the deepest waters and darkest places of your soul. And your heart feels light and your soul begins to sing and you have this sudden, exuberantly surreal sensation, as if you have just been thrust right into the ending montage of your favorite feel-good movie-- you know, the part where the hero is triumphantly walking into her happily ever after-- and you just know that her whole life is opening up before her and you realize you are her and it FEELS? SO? GOOD?
Then, even when the moment passes and the cars zoom back into your periphery-- and the honking horns, screeching tires, and sporadic Woo! Hey Baby!'s evolve into beautiful songs of unrestrained cacophony-- you can't suppress the giddy smile or the unabashedly swaying hips, and you feel more alive than you can remember having felt in such a long time?
Well? Have you?
Yeah. Um, me neither. I'm so sure.
'Cause every once in a while
You think about if your gonna get yourself together
You should be happy just to be alive
And just because you just don't feel like comin' home
Don't mean that you'll never arrive.
Yeah I'm gonna have to move on...
5 Comments:
-
Ms. Junie commented:
Happy St. Patty's Day..I'm not irish myself.. Love your pics below..ahhhh Constantine's too..I miss him..no one can do his smoldering look..(though yours does have some smolder to it!)
- » 3/17/2006 5:32 PM
-
hemlock commented:
What a great description. I love feeling that way; just happy to be alive.
- » 3/18/2006 9:31 AM
-
WILLIAM commented:
I am picturing a certain scene from Saturday Night Fever.
- » 3/20/2006 7:29 AM
-
Cat commented:
Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk, I'm a woman's man, no time to talk!
Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Stayin' aliiiiiiiiiiii-hiiiiiii-hiiive...!- » 3/20/2006 7:45 AM
-
Amy commented:
Ahhh, that feeling of the warm wind on your back, easy walking to wherever, that life might just be more than okay. I love it.
Great Post, Cat. I needed that.- » 3/20/2006 2:38 PM