My heart of glass beat both brittle and warm this morning. Almost beyond my control, I found myself putting on my wireless headphones and walking to work. Despite the cold at 4 a.m. As I passed Pack Rat and the reflective pond, I looked up to see a shooting star falling and heading Northeast.
“If I had only known the last time would be the last time, I would have put off all the things I had to do…” It was pure synchronicity that the song Lynette had recommended to me was playing. Some songs resonate differently, and especially so when I’m the sole occupant of the entire trail.
I thought of Willie, Nelly, Barb and Barbara, Mike, Jimmy, Buck, Bobby Dean, and Carolyn. What they would do to be able to feel cold and their fingers tingle, looking up at the streak of illumination as it fell.
I could not hear the mockingbird but I knew it was out there, waiting for first light. My pace quickened. As the steps accumulated into the thousands, I no longer noticed the cold. I sang and whispered to the mockingbird.
My brittle heart unaccompanied on the cement path. Feeling happy. And thinking of all the people who no longer have the chance to feel the cold.