We found a perfect spot by the water. We spread our blankets out. Out of the bags came our crab, chicken, and chinese salads, some cheese, strawberries, and of course, bottles of champagne. We brought out the speakers, hooked up the ipod, and turned on the tunes. A late afternoon, last day of April sun shone down, it felt perfect on our bare shoulders and legs.
Everything then was so unknown and yet the moment couldn't have been happier. A rolling tide of joy rose up, inspired by the setting and the food and the fact that I was sitting around dear dear friends who have meant so much to me in the past year.
Friends who sing Disney songs at the top of their lungs while we walk downtown in the night.
...who help me when I don't know how to ask for it.
...who know the people I have known and can understand.
...who pull me out of my occasional hesitance and into epic and sometimes mischievous memories.
...who wrap their arms around me so tight when they saw I needed it. I didn't have to talk or move, they just held me hard and close. I wouldn't have expected that from them, I can't even do that for those I'm close to most times, but they did, and it was the perfect thing to do.
And we toasted several times, to various things, and since summer is close, the sun still kept shining. We sang into pretend microphones to so many songs, and the one I remember most was this one:
"and all the roads we have to walk are winding
and all the lights that lead us there are blinding."
Winding or straight... well-lit or not... this is a good road.