Monday, May 05, 2014
Let the music play on (play on, play on)
You are all 16 and amazing, in love and loved. But now you are secure in the knowledge that you are amazing and you are loved. You're not thinking about the size of your thighs or if you're wearing the right pants or if everyone is going to think the thing you just said was stupid.
Because now you have the added benefit of decades of life experience and self-confidence. And you know that sometimes you have it good, and when you do, you need to live it big, hold tight to every single moment of it, toss your joy high up in the air and see it sprinkle around.
You know that time is fleeting and love is not to be taken for granted, and so you throw your arms wide and embrace it all.
This is all of you.
Sound like magic?
It was. For one whole weekend, we were our high school selves in a grown-up world and everything was sprinkled with fairy dust and rainbows and kissed by unicorns.
I mean, really. It had poured almost all week. Cold, grey, and grim. Thursday was warm and muggy. But starting Friday the sun was lovely and clear and the air was bright and sparkly. The flowers beamed. And so did we.
I don't want to say it was like a Disney film and the birds were chirping around helping us get dressed for the ball...but sort of.
My friend Nicole (pictured above in kissing pose) arrived on Monday, and we were giddy for an entire week. Nick told me last night that he had been worried that the weekend wouldn't live up to our expectations, because we were so excited.
He said, "I don't want to compare you to children, but you were like kids on Christmas. You were squealing and squeaking and shaking with excitement on Friday morning. You were counting the hours."
And that's exactly how it was. Friday morning felt like Christmas was upon us.
One friend flew from Sweden. Another from Costa Rica. And Greg, who was hosting the Saturday brunch, had just gotten back from Delhi Friday morning. Saturday night he said, "I'm just going to keep going until I physically cannot go any more."
That's how it was.
We spent Friday evening at Roofers Union (which was fantastic) and as each person arrived, we hugged and cried and laughed. And then the next person! Oh, and the next! It was like one gift after another!
As the evening wore on, people trickled away - back to the hotel or home. A couple people left to go dancing. And somewhere around midnight a band of us stopped for empanadas and then trip-trapped back to my house.
Nicole led some elevator rides. The next day one of my friends told Betty he hoped we hadn't woken her, and frankly, she was disappointed that we hadn't. She'd have come down and hung out.
There was laughter and snorting and talk of keeping one's maple syrup in one's sporran and it was really all kind of perfect until suddenly it was 4:00 am and why did it seem like a good idea to continue opening those bottles of wine?
Nicole and I staggered out onto the front steps around 11:00 am to check the temperature and saw a neighbor who asked how the festivities had been. We said, "Amazing. Difficult morning, and we need to be at the next event at noon."
"Yeah. You look terrible. I mean pained. Not terrible."
His advice: Advil, water, coffee, food, and a hot shower. Oh, and a poop. Preferably all before the brunch, but certainly before night.
It seems a sound strategy.
We all congregated at a friend's house for brunch and volleyball (ha). Our friend Richard and his wife hadn't been able to fly till that morning, and when they arrived it was another celebration. Whee!
I will say that I felt significantly better once I'd had a beer and danced to Thriller. Hair of the dog and Michael Jackson will fix a lot.
And then...then it was time to head home and get ready for the Big Indian Dinner! We'd managed to fill Himalayan Heritage and I have to say, they were spectacular. The staff is lovely and kind and accommodating, and the food is terrific.
After dinner they moved tables and the staff tried to get the hanging lamps (hung low for table dining, not expecting dance parties) out of the way for the dancing that we proceeded to do for the next five hours. In the end, we danced around them. The lamps, I mean. Not the staff.
Wendy and Richard had made amazing 80s playlists, and every song that came on was the Best! Song! Ever!
I mean, did Wham! have a bad song? I think not.
I'd warned them that we needed a lot of beer. A lot. So they ordered 150 of those large Indian beers. Just to be sure.
I'm not sure if we finished them, but I do know we made a good dent. We all did our best. (Cheers, Wendy!)
My friend since birth Jordan, (seen below and brewer extraordinaire) spent the night, and in the morning he and my Jordan introduced themselves to each other. My son's mind was kind of blown. Jordan? I'm Jordan! Whoa!
Sometimes when I leave, my kids will sit on one of my feet and wrap their arms and legs around my leg. This is exactly what I wanted to do. Noooo! Don't gooo!
Because spending time with these people for me is what I imagine drugs to be like. Because as soon as it is about to end, I immediately want more. And when it is really over and they are gone, I crash. If I could get another fix, I would.
(So while I regret not having doing the drugs while I was young, it's probably for the best, you know?)
Late, late into the night on Saturday, or rather in the wee small hours of Sunday morning, there we were, dancing to Lionel Richie in a circle. All Night Long. A number of us may have wept a little.
You are young, you are beautiful, you are in love with life and everyone around you.
You dance to all the songs. You spread your arms and your heart wide open. You dance with everyone.
You laugh until you snort and you cry and you hug and you kiss and you dance.
Oh, you dance.