Buzzing moments
The small details that remind me that I’m really not invincible, not imbued with super powers; no sense complaining about the regular moments of life. Things could be much worse, right.
You know the moments I’m referring to. Cooking supper and getting an unexpected and unnecessary burn on the palm of my hand. Stepping away from the table and tripping over a school bag that is parked, just out of sight and mind. Checking the new frying pan with the new gold lining – scratched by the only non-plastic spatula in the house. Grrr! Not just a sound for an angry dog.
And that’s the thing. Life is made of wonderful high notes, punctuated by a chorus of small buzzes from the clarinet section. Not to blame the clarinets (that’s where the music teacher stuck the kids who showed small talent). At least the percussion section gets to pound cymbals until it hurts.
We’re in the drab season. It gets light too late and dark too early. The rain comes often enough to give a monsoon perspective, even if the figures belie that explanation. We’re on the cusp of a new season, but the snow falls elsewhere. Can’t things get into gear?
I’m looking forward to Glee this evening; they’re about to introduce a new generation to Rocky and his Horror Picture Show. Hardly up there with a Bach suite, but there will be moments that take me back. To an auditorium, where everyone else (but me) seemed to know what to do with a newspaper.
