A Song Crashed My Workday—and I Let It

It’s 1:22pm on a Tuesday and “click clack, click clack” is the only noise I hear as I’m head down pushing digital paper.

My ears perk ups from the weird suction sound made from the French doors on the patio opening. Patrick must be coming in from working construction outside.

It’s business as usual until the sound of music enters the cabin with him.

Stephen Kellogg and The Sixers - OMG.

As the guitar strings start strumming my twenty something year old self is awoken. I can feel my hands on the steering wheel of my 1999 white Subaru Outback as I charge for Breckenridge with this song blasting as loud as the heat is cranking, Patrick’s head bobbing alongside mine.

The lyrics start:

She was on fire and wild and American
She burns it out probably just because she can
And if I had a dollar for everything I should have said
I'd probably still be busted I would throw it all away again
Lightning bugs light up all across the southern sky
Some guys get it all and they don't even need to try

I get up and move over to our balcony so he can see all of me and I can see all of him. There he is dressed in Carthartt coveralls from a yard sale last summer that are too small for him.

“He’s so hot,” I think to myself.

He raises the white Beats pill above his head - raising the volume further, amping up the vibe. He’s the modern day version of John Cusack from Say Anything.

My heart swoons while simultaneously my heartbeat rises and my hands start to sway above my head.

I’m stumbling to remember some of the lines, but my body remembers every beat.

His blue green eyes lock with mine — pulling me in.

The emails. The tariffs. The injustices of the world. The unfolded laundry all disappear.

He sways his hips. I laugh. I bounce up and down in delight hearing the chorus again. Slightly winded I think, “Yeah, we’ve still got it. I could watch his moves all day.”

The last lines bellows out:

This, this is my life, on the 4th of July
It ain't so much, but at least it's mine

From my view in the loft I see the river flowing outside, the afternoon sun shining through the forest trees. I see Lily’s Georgia O’Keefe painting near the piano, Roody curled up on his pillow, Marlowe’s cardboard box bedroom with her handmade treasure chest on top of it. I see my favorite candle near the fireplace.

Patrick looks up at me with a smile, “Can I make you coffee love?

I think to myself, “Yes, this is my life,” followed by “Ugh, he’s SO hot.” I had no idea how much I needed this moment of lightness, of love, of connection and I’m overcome with gratitude for all of it.

Photo by CSA Images.