Bread Near the Water, Then Quite Far

It was good to see the sun this afternoon after a few days of cold, and, perhaps, our final dose of snow. Today’s walk over the Longfellow Bridge in the brisk air went at a quick pace, all things considered. Lost in thought as I often am, it was a lovely surprise to hear the tune being played by the saxophone busker who usually stations himself near busy crosswalks by the hotel. His slow, low notes immediately transported me back to a time long, long ago. Do you remember “If” by Bread?!  Carumba!

Decades have passed since I stood on my high school stage and sang that as a duet during my senior year. The soloists’ only instructions were to a choose contemporary number: I haven’t a clue now what moved me to put this at the top of my list. But there I was, and today it was just as clear: me in my long, homemade pale blue gingham dress, my song partner in his pressed, best dress suit, the piano leading us forward, the eyes of the audience locked onto the spotlights as we sang alternate verses and harmonized their final two lines.

I was still humming in the traincar as I pulled out the laptop to finish the climate change story I’d been reading in today’s Science Times. That quickly ended when I saw the headline of the day’s tragedy in Brussels. And now I’m home, hearing more of the details.

The starkness of this violence grips us.

I think of the many, many affected.

In only a moment we are pulled from pleasant reverie to grim reality.

It will take more than a moment to feel this new weight added, and to watch our next steps.

“If?” If only. The world will not “stop revolving, spinning slowly down to die, “at least (I pray) not yet. But there are stars going out, one by one. Do you agree we won’t, we can’t, simply fly away?

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