It doesn't happen much anymore.
For a number of reasons I guess, don't need to get into them here, but it just doesn't happen like it once did. The highs aren't so celestial; the lows aren't so deep.
But it happened last night, and thank God for it, because I remembered what being alive -- in the true sense of what that word means -- is all about.
Funny, but I thought about an old country song, all about knowing at that moment that there is a God in heaven and the world making perfect sense, realizing what it means because it's such an apt description. But, then again, it always seems to be that way when you hear the music.
I guess I'm growing up. Don't get as excited as I used to about silly things like baseball and bluegrass and mayhem and music.
But there's one exception, one place I can spend a few hours, one voice I can still hear, that makes you remember why you put up with the stress and the deadlines and the shouting and the screams.
Like an oasis in the desert, last night was a time to dream the sweet, unrequited dreams, land on a cloud and watch your troubles float away.