Friday, December 14, 2012

when I see stars, that's all they are

Last night, I walked out to the middle of the lake.
The inky blue sky was so clear, the stars seemed like they were just inches away.


Saying goodbye to friends is a strange experience. It's not wracked with irrepressible sorrow or terrible pain, it's not the sort of inconsolable grief that leaves you sobbing, saying farewells.
It's a strange aura of weirdness. Saying goodbye is a bizarre acknowledgement that change is occurring--that the pattern of our daily lives is changing and that our friends won't have the same role in it anymore. 
And that can leave me feeling numb, unsure, suspended in a moment of transition.


But then there are moments like last night. I sat on a thin strip of concrete, water lapping on both sides, looking at the bright lights of the buildings around me twinkling in the December air. I watched the reflections of the lights shimmer in the mirror of the lake. My heart burst with euphoria.

Then, we walked into my second home: where I spent 14 hours in its windowless dungeon of a basement this week, working on a model set and slowly losing my mind.
But last night, I didn't venture into the basement. we soaked in the palatial lobby, radiant in all its Christmas-y glory. And we admired the tree, bright as a star in the dim lobby lighting.
And I felt that Christmas really wasn't so far away after all.

I bounced out of lunch today, and espied my friend approaching the dining hall. I screeched with joy, and ran down the steps, and we met in a great big spinny-hug, per tradition. Only this time, due to errors of balance, geography, and timing, he ended up on the sidewalk, and I stumbled out of his arms and onto the grass. We dissolved into laughter. Because sometimes your love for one another gets a little out of control and just completely bowls you over.

My friend and I were in his mini-van that has carried me through so many adventures. So many. On the journey of life, Supreme (the mini-van's name. Duh.) has been our companion through so many: driving to Massachusetts this summer, driving to my storage unit at 4 am when I left Vision this summer, driving around to get mirrors for SHE, driving to parties, driving to the Ocean, driving to in the middle of Times Square at midnight. But, wherever we're going, always driving with friends. And always singing.
It was in Supreme that I first heard Some Nights. And I remember the music infecting all of us with it's magic, although we barely knew the lyrics (and got most of the words we thought we knew wrong).
As we drove down the sunny December road, I had completed some sort of circle. We were laughing and singing, and dancing like fools in a supremely gold mini-van, having Fun. and singing Fun, as only we could do. 
I felt there could be no more fitting way to end the semester. 
There was no other appropriate action.

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