Sunday, February 4


I walk to the platform, not caring that I just missed a train. I stand in front of an advertisement for diet prodcuts, not caring that I just had a liquid dinner, martinis instead of entrees. I put my headphones on and hit play on my IPod. A song too loud for my mood comes on, and a train pulls into the station. I sit down, scrolling through the playlist and see a song called, "Grace".

An eerie, yet beautifully melodic voice comes on, singing of love, of loss, of being on her "knees with only memories left to hold". Holy shit, I think, this is so it. "Turn my grief to Grace," She exclaims. I'm lost in her voice, her lyrics, how true they are to everything I'm going through, gone through. The play on words of grace and my Mom's name, Grace.

The train pulls into Porter station and climb out, selecting Grace again. I step onto the long escalator. One foot on the step above and let the lyrics pour into me. I'm lost in them, I'm lost in the movement of the escalator and the places the lyrics are taking my mind. Its the perfect combination of being and mind. I almost slide off of the top of the escalator, passing through the doors of the station and into the cold night. I walk with determination, hitting back once more on my IPod, passing once more into her voice, her story, her perfect connection to my experience. My steps are in line with her beat, my head in sync with her thoughts. "Its so fucking perfect," I think. My body connected to her voice, my steps almost outside of my body, but still connected to the rhythm.

Turn my grief to Grace.

No comments: