Tuesday, October 6, 2009

The Anatomy of a Beautiful Day: Part I

Ok, so, I officially got over the initial writer's block and wrote some pieces to reestablish myself on this thing. So, here it goes.......

*This Series will start with the end and progress in reverse. I mean, I might as well start with the memories that are the most fresh; Pretty soon it will all be in shades of gray. This series was written over the course of 3 days. Forgive me if the flow has hangups, and if the sentence structure isn't perfect.


So, it's midnight on a Sunday, and I am standing at the bus stop with the usual suspects: a boy who looks too young for his age (whatever age that is) and too young to have such a look of disinterest in the world around him, a soon-to-be-middle-aged man still rocking a half ponytail and macrame messenger bag he probably got from a Farmer's Market, a young hispanic woman who already has home in her eyes, and a young couple that look like they have lived in DC for years yet cannot seem to figure out how the bus system works (and don't really care), and me, the boy-to-man that stayed out at a friend's house a little too long and is already dreading having to wake up in the morning before he even reaches his bed. We all sit or stand and pray that the set of twinkling lights off in the distance is our gas-powered chariot coming to deliver us home, where our bed awaits. I however – unlike the most of them – assume that it's not. A public transportation law of nature: the bus that you barely missed was always early, and the bus that wasn't scheduled to come for another 20 minutes anyway is always late. So, as my fellow nighthawks duck in and out of the middle of the street searching for the oncoming bus like a human version of Frogger, I simply close my eyes, exhale a deep, knowing sigh, and make a silent prayer that no matter what time I get to sleep tonight that I wake up on time tomorrow morning when it counts. Just after I say my version of Amen (essentially a silent pinky promise between me and the universe), I open my eyes in time to focus on a blurring of figures across from me in the apartment above the coffee shop. The lights in the window are glowing as bright as they ever would, and I think to myself “what the hell? Please tell me that there are not people fucking in this window”, because it's never the hot, young couples that get caught having sex in open windows in DC. It's the liver spot-ridden elderly couple who have taken their teeth out and are so blind that they have to play 'find the wet spot'. And just as the image is about to be burned into my head, I take one last look (consider me a glutton for the disgusting), I realize that the people in the window are not playing 'grab the squishy', 'find the wet-spot' or anything like that. They are SPINNING. Different sets of two go by the open windows in a silent twirl, clutching waists and holding hands. I cannot hear even the tiniest decible of of music in my ears, yet inside I already know the song and even know the moves. As I see them spinning by, out of nowhere a small yet palpable smile begins to spill across my face. It just grows and grows, until I am looking into this window as if I have just seen the man of my dreams, which in a sense I have.

As I think to myself and process what I am witnessing, the entire plan of the universe begins to unfold before me. I stand there, and briefly take a look around me, realizing that all of these people on this corner are no more or less human than I am. We all come from the same physical place and all have the same end to our journey. Yet here I stand on this dimly lit street corner witnessing natural magic. None of the other people even glance in that direction. As I stare into the window viewing this glorious occasion, I suddenly feel so thankful to the universe/God for allowing me to see this. I mean, what are the chances that I would be on that corner at that time just as this midnight dance lesson is occuring? Some may look at me and see the delusions of the tragically hopeful, but for me, looking in that window made the film Life is Beautiful look that much more possible......Well, you know, without the Nazis and the execution style shot to the back of the head at the end. For those few fleeting moments, it was likeI had gotten a peek at the Universe's blueprints and could see that I was in it. And that made the idea of there being someone special out there for me that much more believeable. And he's there, right now. He just has to wait for me to sneak a peek in the right window. So as I stand on this street corner watching a beautiful moment unfold, I hope that there are other people all over the world witnessing something just as magical.

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