09/01/24

8:20 am

   Impeccable morning. Sun is out. R and I are sitting on the porch having a lighthearted conversation about his grandfather. As he talked, I fixated on the reflection coming from the spoon he was using to eat rolled oats. H was in the kitchen making coffee. Sam circled, waiting for a pat on the head.

   On the dock alone, I dangled my feet in the water—warm and clear. Sipping on my fourth tiny cup of coffee. Cry, Cry in my headphones. The wind was strong. I watched the waves roll in, sparkling with the afternoon light. The bay filled with sails. B and L had left to join the yacht club's regatta.

   By 3 o’clock, I had gone from sitting at the picnic table on the porch to lying on the sofa on the porch to sitting on the dock then at the kitchen counter and now lying on the grass looking out onto the water. I could hear the waves crashing against the dock. I listened to Elvis’s version of Harbour Lights. I watched the neighbors from my hilltop as they jumped into the water over and over—hand in hand. I laid looking up at the trees swaying in the wind and the sun shined on me through the branches and suddenly every song sounded like Harbour Lights and when the music stopped I could still hear it. I am so beautifully alone.

    H woke me up from a cat nap I accidentally took and handed me a small bite of chocolate to partake in some mid-day microdosing. Sitting on the porch and sipping on a beer, the conditions were perfect. I popped in my headphones. The night before, H had played an amazing song during dinner which I ask him for. He recommended the whole album so I started it from the top. On a low volume, Oscar Peterson & Nelson Riddle melds perfectly to the mood.

4:54 pm

    I could hear every note, every phrase, every riff. I could see all the colors and feel the wind over every inch of my skin. The light through our golden colored glasses shined like jewels on the table. I’m in a Nora Ephron movie. I’m the dearly departed wife in Sleepless in Seattle. Tom Hanks is telling the late night radio-show host how special I am and at the same time I’m Meg Ryan’s character, listening to the radio, crying as I drive. I’m walking the streets of New York alone, holding the lapels of my jacket closed. I’m looking into windows of warm rooms, at people laughing together.

    Our dinner guests arrived. Upon taking out my headphones, I’m taken out of my fantasy and suddenly I’m sat between six different conversations and the weather sort of darkened. H brought out the portable speaker. I played the album aloud. The energy became lively again. I had to stop myself from laughing. I heard each sound intermittently. People talking, then just the leaves in the wind, then the jazz comes forth from the background—blaring.

    I really felt it now. When I laughed, I seriously laughed. I felt it take over my entire being. I’ve gone insane with laughter. I catch the music again; it swelled and I saw it. I saw myself sitting for a private concert in a dark jazz bar. Two spotlights. One on me, I’m in the audience, and the other on the piano player on stage. But I’m not completely gone—a gust of wind brought me back to reality. The sun has come out.

    We sat on the dock, just H and I. The waters gleaming surface was blinding. Sunbeams poured out from behind dark clouds, a holy moment shined on us as Light My Fire methodically droned over the speaker. The soupy guitar riff entered and everything slowed; the sun slipped away, Rogers Rock illuminated from behind. I wanted to jump out of my skin—not from any displeasure but because my skin could not contain all of what I was feeling. The sun reappeared and the song burst. I felt like dancing but I couldn’t move. A water skier rode by us, he was having the time of his life. What was that quote from Gatsby? “And I was him too.” Another song played and I felt as if I could see for miles and within the depths of the sky.

8:19 pm

    Come dinner time all that was left of my high was unprovoked laughter and feeling as light as a feather. Nestled in an Adirondack chair out on the darkened lawn I watched two beautiful vignettes unfold before me. H and R grilled in complete darkness, the flames bright orange illuminated their smiling faces, and the others are sat chatting idly on the screened-in porch. I could hear their laughter and hushed voices. Once again, two spot lights appeared, this time I was on the outside. I let the cool air sink into my skin. An aroma of charcoal lingered. Summer had come to an end.

Playlist

Cry, Cry - Mazzy Star

Harbour Lights - Elvis Presley

Oscar Peterson & Nelson Riddle (1963)

Laura - Oscar Peterson

Light My Fire - The Doors

Supersonic - Oasis

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