In My Head, I Count The Days
Letting Up Despite Great Faults— Our Younger Noise
Last evening I attended a Greek wedding— somewhat resembling a deleted scene from My Big Fat Greek Wedding, complete with traditional Greek dancing, “opa!”s abound, and some of the best cake I’ve ever had.
The ceremony was held on the rustic grounds of a summer camp, among the heavily forested countryside, in the middle of nowhere, roughly an hour or so outside the city.
As the evening expired, giving way to the beginning of the morning, I started home, negotiating my way down the long dry, incredibly dark gravel driveway; a cicada of crickets and frogs serenading me along the way. Moving over the empty roads I lowered the windows and my hand met the wind. The warm air kissing my fingers, as the resistance and pressure push my hand to the sky.
It’s the sort of perfect summer moment that will tiptoe into my ear and softly whisper to me come wintertime, and I’ll smile and remember this jam on the stereo, my hand in the wind, and the way the dusty road smelled just like my childhood.
I Always Seem To Change Inside The Past || http://www.myspace.com/lettingup
