luck

When the music isn't loud enough: my mind is. Notes that start here. At middle "C" And then I hear a minor key that grows.. it grows so big. Into notes that spell things I can't understand. My eyes close tight. And when I open them I am standing there again. With my arms open wide and my head bent back and my eyes to the sky.  In them reflected that blue and black and gray that I saw. My smile is big. Bigger than it has ever been. And I am spinning, spinning slowly and trying not to blink. And now my song is major: chord after chord and it's my voice saying the name of my piano, no! i am singing the name over and over again with the flow of the music. And then the smile fades from my face, and I am no longer looking into the sky but into the blue of my best friends eyes, and how they are frowning with her lips. Blink again and now I am looking into blackness. And there I see something that I know I will never have but will always want. And the music now, it is fading, so quiet it is almost to oblivion. And there I am again, sitting on the curb, looking into the blackness of the road. Alone. And here comes a violin solo that rings and I am conducting the blonde soloist  and I whisper the words "Can you play quieter" and he says "No, because that would be a shame." and looks up toward the sky. I start to cry because the music is getting so loud and I can no longer keep up with it. My tears create little rain drops on the deep red color of the wood floor. And in them I see  myself. I bend down trying to scoop them up, but they just break into smaller and smaller pieces. I lie down on my back. And close my eyes as tight as I can. And I see myself sitting at my favorite place, right in front of the piano. But there! Behind me is a group of people I don't know. They are crying. I stare at every single one of those people. Remembering each moment I shared with these strangers and then I understand. They are waiting. Waiting for me to play music to say good bye to a loved one. A Tribute. I turn back to face the black and white ivories and lay my fingers on their cool and smooth surfaces. And I continue my song with my own music. When I finish with a quiet "F" the crowd is barely breathing. And I am not breathing either. I can only sit there and look at that baby grand through the mist and fog in my eyes. But when I turn around. I am beaming! I open my mouth and laugh with that crowd, but they are gone. And I am at Andrea's house. Turning around in her empty family room, laughing at myself. Andrea comes around the corner though, and asks me if I would like to hear her play. And she plays. And she wrote it. And I am smiling more than ever because I realize it's the same song that I had been trying to write for years. And we share that. And I know that is why our friendship never will change. She walks to the window and opens the blinds and the sun is so bright, so I close my eyes tight and I am laying in the grass in a big empty field. I turn to the boy lying beside me. He is talking to me, but I am not listening. I watch as his fingers trace out different patterns in the clouds. And he starts singing a song about the sun and the moon. And working harder than I have ever worked. I start to cry because I don't remember the title, and he tries to tell me but I can't hear him. I am far away from him and from this perfect meadow we lie in. I am riding a rocking horse. And I hear the voice of D.H. Lawrence say the word "Luck" "Luck" "Luck" "Luck". And I start to repeat after him until I no longer have a voice to say it.  And it is raining hard. And I see him smile and I smile back at him. We are running, no sprinting through that warm rain. I catch up to him and he turns to pull me into his arms. And we are kissing and hugging and whispering words to each other. And there are other people but we don't care. Invincibility is rare, and I drink it in with that warm summer rain. Since this is so rare, it does not last long, and I find my windshield wipers have stopped working. And I am alone in my car. My breathing slowly fogs the inside of the window and I see the words that he wrote so long ago: I and love and you.  I angrily smear the moisture on the window across the words that meant nothing. And I close my eyes tight. And then I am standing there. So young, in the reflection of that boys glasses. My hair is in knots and is long and blond. I smile at that boy, but he frowns as he sees me look over my shoulder. "Why are you always doing that Sierra?" the boy asks. When I turn around I can no longer look into the eyes of a boy that judges no one. I only lay down on the grass and close my eyes as tight as I can. And I am falling through the grass.
And that feeling.
It wakes me up.