The meaning of life

is a bar in Pensacola and an old blue chair.

I played Jimmy Buffett's "Bama Breeze" on repeat at least a dozen or so times today. For a good 15 minutes I just sat in my office, staring out the window, playing the song over and over with a smile on my face. If I could bottle how that song makes me feel and the absolute peace and calm and quiet and happiness it gives me, I could make millions and retire to the Carribbean. And oddly, I've never stepped foot in the Florabama.

That's the meaning of life. That feeling. Sometimes you know it's happening and sometimes it takes a while to realize life happened to you. Knowing it is the secret.

It's sitting in a beach chair on Playa Las Gatas in Zihuatenejo, Mexico all by yourself watching the local fisherman deliver his morning catch to the bar owner and the radio on the boat plays Van Morrison's "And It Stoned Me."

It's King, an old black man, sitting on a bench on River St. in Savannah, Georgia making you a palmetto rose out of palm frawns.

It's driving around in a limousine, filled with Kim Taylor's big laugh, in Jackson, Mississippi, listening to Delbert McClinton and drinking Dom Perignon, too stuffed on lobster from Schimmel's to move, on the way to Hal and Mal's.

It's that moment ten miles outside of Rocky Point, with the windows rolled down, drinking your third beer, Kenny Chesney's "Old Blue Chair" on the stereo, when relaxation and the fact that your on vacation really hits you.

It's stepping off of the subway in New York City and being met by the sound of a string quartet of college age students playing Vivaldi's "Spring I Allegro."

It's waking up in the morning to a hand gently touching your face and opening your eyes and the first thing you hear that day is, "Mommy. You're so preeeeeeeetty."

It's the last mile of a ten mile run, late at night in September when the night air just starts to cool, nothing around you but the smell of creosote and Mahalia Jackson singing "Precious Lord."

It's just matter of letting it happen and knowing it's happened .

Comments

[Sherri]

I with you up until you said the part about a 10 mile run then you lost me. LOL!