Day One Hundred and Forty-Eight

Tonight I am a tired, happy, jumbly mess of contradictions.

I am out at 11 p.m. enjoying my daily infusion of fresh air (Item #63), and I admit I am oddly attired. I am wearing those ubiquitous, ugly rubber sandals, an old pair of black yoga pants, and an oversized black windbreaker over a T-shirt proudly bearing the logo for Tillamook Vintage White Extra Sharp Cheddar Cheese. This ensemble is accessorized with a dressy hair clip, sparkly earrings, and a classy necklace in a double strand of tiny sparkly white rhinestones.

The rain and clouds are taking a brief hiatus, and I am taking it on faith that my feet can navigate the familiar bumps and dips in the sidewalk from memory, since my face is tilted up to the black sky and its brilliant scattering of stars. The dampness from the earlier rain is seeping into my shoes and loosening the curls from my hair, and my carefully applied makeup is forgotten as the occasional tiny droplet of rain lands on my upturned face.

The night air is cool on my skin, but I am still warm with the remembered heat of stage lights, excitement, and the glow of a concert well-played and fully enjoyed.

I hear nothing but the sound of my own breath, my soft footsteps, and the hush of the faint breeze in my ears, but my memory is alive with the laughing lilt of Beethoven and the sweet sound of my friend's violin.

I feel the rain-softened breeze and the pavement under my feet, while my hands hold the memory of the dance and whisper and crash of the piano keys under my fingers.

I stop for a moment, turning in place on a patch of wet sidewalk, awestruck at the brilliance of the nearly-forgotten constellations overhead. I breathe, and the tension begins to ease out of the muscles in shoulder and forearm and back that have served me so well tonight. My mind rests, allowing the bright tangle of thoughts and emotions to gently unravel a little, settling into easier patterns that will, in a while, allow for much-needed sleep.

I finish my walk, and I am home. I am slightly less jumbly, still happy, and still tired, and now I am going to bed.