Situational possibilities exploding into vivid realities diminishing into what once was and distant memories. Difficult goodbyes and painful realizations that you’re alone once again, there will always be another pleased-to-meet-you around the corner but who knows how long it will last. Cheers to another round with people who make you smile the way you almost always forget how when you’re drinking alone. Nearer than you’d imagine, closer to home than you’d like to be, further from the life you’ve expected, truthfully things just aren’t adding up the way you’d planned. God only knows the time spent on leather bound journals and big, impressive books and wondering about the smiles shared and kisses forgotten and little notes scribbled on pieces of torn paper stowed away between pages of library books forgotten and left for no one that seems to care. Just thinking, you said. About what? How tomorrow you’ll forget my face and in a week be hard pressed for a name? Pleasant enough in the now, current situation fulfilling whatever need it is you hold deep and secret but for some reason you’ve shared with me. Who am I to pretend you’ll want to touch my face again? But it’s alright, along the way there will be plenty more people to say hello to, to share a bottle of wine with, to explore a pretty city with, to pull the shades closed when the sun comes streaming through them in the early morning. You’re lovely, you really are. It’s not just you, it’s me, it’s all of them, it’s beauty in every facet of the human experience. It’s tears streaming across cheeks and making little pools on the faces of old books read time and time again. It’s buildings older than your country that you’ve explored and seen and read about and hoped to some day write about in scripts that will never be read. It’s pretty girls in dresses, it’s bright blue beaches with deep sand and high skies for as high as the sky is as low is the tide. It’s babies crying on the subway and staring into the eyes of somebody sitting across from you, waiting for some recognition when the silence commences. It’s crowded train stations and girls crying and teams of football players traveling to the next town over and old women saying goodbye to their grandchildren and men in business suits giving their ladies a kiss and hopping aboard before the whistle. It’s you, it’s me, it’s wherever we’ve been and the people we’ve seen, the lives we’ve impacted through the smallest acts, the people we’ve been blessed enough to meet and love and share smiles and laughs with. It's your foot against mine, our legs tangled between sheets, lips smiling in between kisses. It’s the feeling hands gliding across your arms asking you if everything is okay, it’s dancing with a perfect stranger and never having to say goodnight, it’s drinking till you wobble a bit and covering it up by saying your heels are giving you some trouble, it’s living life and accepting the consequences, it’s late night trips to the grocery store for things that you forgot you’d want before you knew you wanted them. It’s you, it’s me, it’s everybody around us, it’s the new cities we’ll experience and the lives we’ll eventually build with somebody that isn’t the other person. I mean I may be sentimental but I’m not stupid, this was another one for the books. And when I write mine, you’ll be in it. You’ll all be in it. I’ll see you later in life.
Soundtrack:
Coming Home - City & Colour
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