"I hope that you end up finding what you're looking for."
"I will be praying for you."
Beautiful sentiments from loving people.
Here we go again.
It's the middle of the night. I'm on a ferry returning to Seattle. I'm reassured by the constant hum of the boat beneath me, watching as the life of this city glitters in the darkness. We're getting closer. She slowly defeats the night sky and dominates my view. I look over at my friends. They too are lost in light. The eyes betray it all.
I hear that music again.
I was performing on one of the islands, and it felt good. Really good. I met a couple that decided to spend their anniversary here, with a complete stranger and his music. They were lovely people. I don't feel like we are strangers any more.
A close friend accompanied me musically at the end of the night, the notes of our bass and guitar swirling together into colors and patterns I could plainly see. We build up to a subtle yet definitive finale. Such a good night.
Precious moments in a beautiful venue.
Ego boosts.
I'll be honest. I love seeing my name in lights, and sometimes I'm more comfortable with strangers.
Next scene.
It's midday. I'm standing in an all too familiar place with people I used to know well. I still love them dearly.
Things have changed. I've changed. Everything feels smaller, so stifled and contained in-between nervous heartbeats.
It's a cool, rainy day. Thick clouds under a gray sky. I want to be among them.
Feeling a little too trapped. Need the freedom of open air.
Need to continue to fulfill the promises I made to myself.
Can't do that here.
I hear a lament. It's a beautiful and delicate piece, about grief,
about the delicacy in moments that have forever passed.
This can never exist again.
Over time a piece of me died a slow but necessary death.
Something else was birthed from that eternally self-conscious and apologetic corpse.
Something different.
It's time to leave.
"You're quieter now."
Relationships with some people are very different.
I moved. Paid a painful but necessary price.
I was warned this would happen.
It's okay.
"Sometimes when we talk now you seem to drift away.. I don't know if you're always really listening."
I'm trying hard to stay focused in this moment, this seemingly friendly conversation, but I'm hearing it again. A single, mournful note persistently calling, reminding me of something I've lost or forgotten.
I don't know what it is.
It's time to go.
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