The Music in You

It had been a long day at work. All she wanted to do was throw on her favorite music app, hit shuffle, and allow the music gods to determine the drive vibe. She would turn off her brain for the weekend and let nothing else bother her.

Sometimes they got it right; sometimes it was way off.

Right as she hit play, someone approached her window and tapped. She could feel the frustration building up inside of her. She took a breath, smiled, turned the off volume, and rolled her window down. After a brief encounter with her coworker, she didn't want to chance get called back (not that she had plans.)

She threw the car in reverse and zoomed out of there.

She was stuck at the dreaded train tracks, when she realized that she was in such a hurry to leave, that she never turned the music back on. She rolled down the windows to enjoy the fresh air. It felt cleansing; she is deprived it all day. She turned the volume back up. Everything was starting to feel like Friday again.

"I realized quickly when I knew I should; that the world was made up of this brotherhood of man. For whatever that means."

She laughed to herself, "You got that right, sister!" and turned up the music loud enough to ensure that the music gods who selected it could hear it as well.

She was lost in the song, drowning out her inner thoughts, sitting at the tracks for eternity, when she looked over, and saw someone smiling.

"AND I SCREAM FROM THE TOP OF MY LUNGS, 'WHAT'S GOING ON?'"

The car next to her had rolled down the window and decided to join her in that moment of musical bliss. She smiled and felt the kind of warm tingles that she usually only had at live shows.

And a moment later, she heard from behind her:

"And I say, hey-ey-ey! He-ey-ey! I said, "Hey! A-what's going on?"

It was the man in the car behind her. He honked and laughed. They all honked back, laughing loudly, and enjoying what he started.

Before she knew it, she was hearing the song in surround sound- all of the cars stuck at the train had rolled down their windows and were singing; in tune, out of tune? It didn't matter. They were in the ecstasy of the spell that had been cast.

Some songs have that effect on people; this is one of those songs.

She could feel the song surge through her body, she could feel the energy of everyone around her take over her entire being. Every day, she dreaded the train tracks. Every day, she hoped to get there before the train. Today was different. Today was nirvana.

"And so I wake in the morning and I step outside-

-and I take a deep breath and I get real high, and I scream from the top of my lungs"

"What's going on?"

She drifted off into a different morning. A morning less than blissful, but still answering the same question being asked.

Sitting on the front porch, drinking black coffee, watching the sun rise over the field, trying to decide if it should be painted or photographed. In nothing but a bathrobe, believing the rest of the world would still be sleeping, inhaling the smell of early morning dew, and a life full of regrets.

Should I start smoking again? Where did I go wrong? Should I continue with the art? This sunrise and coffee would be better with whiskey and a smoke.

And that's when it happened- he just walked by and said, "What's going on?"

"45 years and my life is still; trying to get up that great big hill of hope...."

"I beg your pardon?"

The year was 1992.

"4 Non Blondes? No?"

I've been out of the country for work.

"Under a rock?" It was the biggest song around; playing everywhere you go.

Sand. Desert to be exact. Handling a little thing called "Desert Shield". No?

Like the anvil from the cartoons being dropped from the sky, it hit. Looking him up and down, while taking a long drink of her coffee, trying to hide behind the mug- how did it go unnoticed?

Your assumption is correct. I did forget my arm over there.

He walked away, whistling, and giving the woman he had never met before a wink- not knowing the impact the chance encounter would have on her.

How could he be so happy? He had just come home from war, an arm short, and still manages to keep it together? He had a magnetism to him that drew her in; how could one know more? Perhaps too old, it didn't matter-

He had inspired her. And she wanted more-for herself, for her daughter, for this life.

For the first time in 3 weeks- she showered. She got dressed.

She left the house.

Standing outside of the building for several minutes, scared. She felt alone and vulnerable. She took a deep breath and walked in.

The chairs were lined up, filled with about a dozen people, and she was 15 minutes late. Walking towards the front, standing in front of the group, all she could manage to say is-

"What's up?"

Stepping down, feeling a wave of relief, her eyes locked with one man-

-he wasn't as happy as he had appeared, and somehow, knowing that gave her hope.

They welcomed her to her first AA meeting.

They clapped for her.

The laughter, cheering, and clapping brought her back to the tracks. She smiled as she remembered watching the interaction from her window, at 14 years old, and following her mother to make sure she was going where she said.

That man probably saved her mother's life.

And today- his spirit inspired her:

To get up that great big hill of hope-

-For a destination.