Thursday, October 23, 2008

Right now feels like the second before the chorus of your favorite song kicks in for the first time, tight with the upswell and waiting for that crash that almost always makes you involuntarily pump your fist in celebration. The air is waiting.

A few days ago I was sitting on my living room floor, cutting out what will be a ruffle on the bottom of a dress and watching a documentary on FDR and that was when the air changed, when it crystallized around me, when everything suddenly became weighted with a teenager-load of anticipation. Like life could at any moment turn into a rock video. These feelings get farther apart as the years get longer, and they fit less comfortably, but it's still a better fit than the alternative.

Beyond that, a couple of weeks ago I was sitting in a park looking for four-leaf clovers and waiting to go to a party, and I couldn't find any. I never have. So instead I fished a lucky penny out of my purse and nestled it carefully down in a clump of clover, figuring that at least this way the next person looking for good luck wouldn't be disappointed too. A man walked past as I was doing it and looked at me like I was participating in suspicious activity, but I couldn't have explained even if he had asked. It feels more important to leave luck than it does to take it. Because maybe everything is about to change, and we could all use all the help we can get. Plato said, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle," and that never really stops being true.

Someone told me that there is a word in Russian--razbliuto--that is for the feeling you have about someone you used to love. Those are the best words, the ones that fold around an otherwise indescribable feeling, providing a perfect spot to nestle what is too soft to be described otherwise.

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