This is where I post a memory. Right now, I'm sitting on the express bus home, and watching the sun sink over merced's perpetually hazy horizon. I'm typing my thoughts away on the tiny keyboard in my palm. When I get home, I will sit at my desk, and read my assignments dutifully, after practicing bass.
These are commonplace things. And as I anticipate the end of my evening, I go back to another time.
...I'm sitting on the train leaving LA. The windows are tinted in a warm, summer orange. Shayne sits beside me, his arm draped over my shoulder in a paternal gesture of closeness. My ipod is on shuffle. We each share an ear-bud, although neither of us is paying too much attention to the music. We are pleasantly exhausted after a day of shopping in and exploring LittleTokyo. The rock of the train is soothing, and we get a clear view of the city's majesty as we exit. It is a very calm moment, perfect in its simplicity. The iPod changes songs without fanfare. It begins with the solitary sounds of a piano open, soft and familiar. And then chimes in the clear, perfect voice of a male tenor. And at this point we have turned our full attention inward. Then begins the military-style drumming- playing in the background like a call-to-arms, and the triumphant sounds of a guitar. . . A song which encapsulates our day, our mood, our everything victorious, exultant, powerful- his and mine.
There are no words adequate for a feeling like that.
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