Monday, January 28, 2013

And Florence Sang

A chilly Friday morning. Up early. Sipping caffeine. Packed bags. Breakfast in-hand.
Get in the car. I'll carry you home.

We snuggled in the Honda. We headed West. We talked. We dreamed. We laughed.
Each mile carried us further into life and still closer to death.
Closer to the reality that life's repetitive cycle
sometimes "catches" us un-surprised, yet, completely unprepared.

So we drove and drove.
And stopped to pee.
And drove.
And ate turkey sandwiches.
And listened to NPR.

My sister and I shared headphones as I drove West at 81mph.
We bobbed our heads to Florence and the Machine.
And giggled at the joy it brought us.

Florence sang:  
"And I've been a fool and I've been blind
I can never leave the past behind
I can see no way, I can see no way
I'm always dragging that horse around"

We saw the world through sunglasses brimming with hope.
For just a moment...
In spite of death and mourning
And the purpose for which we came
Aware that part of dying means being alive first.

And Florence sang:
"Our love is questioned, such a mournful sound
Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground
So I like to keep my issues drawn
But it's always darkest before the dawn"

And at least for these four minutes and forty-three minutes
life felt good
and safe
and hopeful
and right.

All is well.