Wednesday, May 05, 2010

Green Morning Reminiscing

The sky behind Whiteface Mountain is tinged peachy by the impending sunrise. The sun's rays, reflected and diffuse, seem to move slowly through the damp air. All of the colors go odd. The whole scene begins to look as if it is submerged in a fish tank of algae water.

The lawn has greened up so quickly these last few days of warm and rain. Covered in dew, the sloping yard has the look of fine velvet. The chill air, the dampness, the birds singing; all of these things combine to send me back, almost as real & true as time travel, to happy, youthful mornings. I would run outside with the chirp of the morning's first bird. Listening to the growing chorus in light growing from gloom to glow, I sensed my whole life before me. I sensed that anything was possible. And I made the best of each moment that I had, alone or with friends, cycling through the ups and downs of teen angst and puberty.

It always strikes me as funny how certain brief, little moments in life stay with me with such clarity. Skidding around a mailbox post while driving my VW packed with screaming friends, who I suppose they thought they were going to die, not realizing I knew how to coax a power slide out of that measly little 42 horsepower engine. Their relief when we stopped our slide and I stopped the car, laughing to blow off the tension and nerves, clapping me on the back and hailing me "Mario," a reference to famed race car driver Mario Andretti and NOT the Nintendo game character who came along much later.

Sitting at the piano at Tori's house, just noodling around and making some made-up music. And I remember Tori said, with some sadness, how I could play the piano so well without any lessons and she had been taking them all her life. Well, number one, it didn't sound all that good; and number two, she drove a Porsche to school while I drove an old beetle.

Speaking of beetles, what fun in the empty school parking lot, playing President's Secret Service Detail. I'd get the bug rolling in first gear and we'd all stand on the running boards outside of the car as it putted along. I think once I managed to kick it into second before climbing out and the thing nearly got away from us as it gathered speed.

I could go on. Through all the years of my life, for the most part, there are these little nuggets of sharp detail that sit around in the dark until some random thing in the here and now causes me to swing a flashlight across their forms. And the details come right back, brightly reflecting the light of my attention.

So bizarre.

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