Do you know that feeling you get when your whole life seems to pump through your body all at once? That overwhelming feeling of being right here but also everywhere else, and all those people, old friends, grandparents, that aunt that makes your favorite snack, your best high school friends, your mentors and soul-wrenching past loves, the regulars from the restaurant that always smiled and made the same jokes, every person who’s ever made you hold your breath, made you see God in cells, every bit of love that’s ever come from anyone. All of it rushes at you and swells into your soul which pushes out your feet into the ground and gives to the weight of the sun and holds the hand of the tree and whispers back at a distant morning bird.
I was listening to this song, full of movement and pulse and light, walking out of my house down this dirt road. With the sun on my shoulders and music in my heart I almost dissolved right there on the gravel. It seemed like the only real thing to do. Here comes my mother carrying the only record of my entire life in her palms. She’s traveling across an entire planet to hug me. That kind of love is the same that has, this whole life, flown into my veins and swirled around my soul and radiated. It’s from my family, from this whole strange world, and I think I just might burst into the smallest particles and ride with it.
As I listened and felt, I began to imagine all the people I saw floating away like some kind of playful rapture vision. The lady in the pale pink sun dress and floppy white hat, the kid on the tiny bicycle, the grizzled old man in the dusty suit, the timid white dog, the vegetable vendor under the sun umbrella sorting bunches of grapes, the old pirate lady with her head wrap and snaggle tooth, my waving friend, the group of teenage boys eating ice cream cones; I imagine them all as they swoop up into the sky like released balloons. On their faces is a look of surpise, like when you’re still a small child and your dad lifts you up into the air.