The park that my daughter and I like to play at is full of little hidden places. Old play areas and paths that have since been left to slowly descend into that slightly creepy and yet completely beautiful glimpse of history.
There are times that I feel my brain is one of those abandoned areas. A plain old metal frame that is being covered and bent by the vines of disuse as I go about the rest of my life. Yet sometimes, usually when I’m right in the middle of something completely mundane, a beautiful bloom or brightly colored animal peeks at me and reminds me of the real purpose behind that ancient frame.
Now if I would only remember to carry a tape recorder in the car again!
This past Saturday I had the wonderful opportunity to attend the performance of the Red Carpet Honor Band…a big deal for the band students of NW Oklahoma, and they did beautifully. While there, listening to the Jr. High B band rock out superhero themes (My favorite song out of all three performances, truth be told), I was inspired to write the following short paragraph. I don’t know if this will be used in a book or short story later on, or if I will continue to let it stand on its own. Either way, it happened.
It wasn’t my friend. It was some junior high child with the right build and a slouch. That chin rubbing idiosyncrasy that only the one man had ever possessed? The first meager sprouting of a baby faced beard.
But, he played the trombone, so that was solidarity enough…I can’t believe I’m that old now.