There is something that evokes a strong memory of past years sculpting late at night. Almost ten years ago, I was at a good personal place on my own. It was during that summer I scraped all the money I could gather to pay for an acoustic guitar I named Elijah Wood. This was after living off of a few snickers bars/nutter butters and a single 16 oz bottle of code red mountain dew or nestea for a week at a time. I was a horrible chain smoker at the time. I haven't smoked since 2005 nor will I. It's the light of the room, the smell of the wet clay mixed in with the dry clumps and dust everywhere. The memories become more clear after hearing a song that was related to a book that stuck in my memory at the time. It was one of the few songs I began to learn when I spent that summer learning how to play the guitar. I remember sitting in the driveway under the stars practicing.

Here's a little weird quirk. I don't listen to my favorite songs often. If I hear it more than twice a week, I will turn it off. My thought is that I don't ever want to wear it out so it would still feel special. I figured that if I ever happened to come across it again then I could stop wherever I was for a few minutes and just enjoy listening. It had been years since I heard Norwegian Wood. It had also been a long time since I had been practically on my own like this.

I clearly remember these hours. For different reasons than now, I never had time to myself to work during the day. Back then I took solace in getting away from everything and hid away in the garage or backyard to escape everyone. Now, the girls give me a few hours to sculpt when I need to and I still spend most of my day with them. I reflect of how nice things are late at night and peek into the bedroom every now and again at my girls. I listen to my dogs snore away next to me in the living room. But what is it about this hour that always feels so familiar?

There's a feeling of looking forward to the future. Things I have never encountered before. There's a whole space of growth I have yet to experience. Back then, there were years that followed that tested my character, my moral standings, my absolute patience. Now I am sitting here again in the early hours of the morning listening to mellow songs reflecting life and mostly love. I am all misty eyed and emotional without even drinking a bit of alcohol. Somewhere I lost my faith in the romance of life and experiences as a whole. I lost my perspective on dreams that I thought I would always hold on to. It's crazy that I was 21 and still daydreaming like I was 12. I am nearly 31 and I am reaching that little seat on top of that star. I am finding a comfortable position to sit, singing little songs to myself. Just generally happy to be, to experience, and to look forward to whatever is ahead.

It's hard to say what the song and the book means to me. It was strange to revisit it as if it were someone I was romantically entangled with. It was something I somehow left behind when things started getting rough and moved me around so quickly that I had to leave it all behind. I suppose when the dust settles and I finally get time to look back and it slips back into my memory. I see it had been something so rare and special that I can't imagine why I would have forgotten in the first place. Of course something life altering happened to draw me away from that time. But it's here again. This odd little time, how many more chances in a lifetime do you get to experience it? Even if it is a couple thousand more moments, they become less and less. It makes you wonder why the older people get, the more reserved and hesitant they are to fully immerse themselves in that moment. This moment is that moment where you've come to terms with your past, you are happy with your present, and anything at all possible could happen at this point in the future. These are the little passages in stories that most writers forget to really grasp on but amazing writers do. These little boring insignificant parts of stories that other people would skip over to get to the action. These moments can really define these turning points in our lives. They are worth taking a good look at and really enjoying. Between the starts and stops, these points in life make up the million and one special "trivial" moments of your life that combined make your life unique.

So I just discovered there's a movie out based on the book. It looks beautiful actually. Maybe I will break my rule and listen to that song a few more times than I normally would. Why not?

Sincerely,
Gen