It is a moment where tears fill the eyes but never drop.
It is sad in its way, but the overriding feeling is one of happiness, and a joy in that it all happened.
A happy almost-cry, if you will.
It’s the quiet and stillness when dear friends who have been visiting for a weekend depart – usually in the morning – and it always strikes me with its return to silence. The beauty and contentment of a newly-made memory…
It’s a time when remnants of dear friends still linger – the faded scent of their perfume, the last glass of water they used, the silly trio of heart-shaped sunglasses that sits on a spent table scattered with birthday cake crumbs.
At such a moment, when Ann and Josie had just left after a ‘Purple Reign’ Birthday weekend that was ideal in just about every way, I stand in the living room, watch the sunlight of a brilliant spring day, and this song comes over the radio – a piano arrangement of Debussy’s ‘Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun’ – fittingly capturing the very start of something, even as it’s the very ending.
As I watch JoAnn pull out of the driveway and give a little beep, I wave, holding my hand up even after she is gone, and I remember that last episode of the ‘The Golden Girls‘ when Sophia is looking at photo of Blanche and Rose and quietly says, ‘Goodbye my girls‘ after they have decided to stay together. (And you didn’t think this blog could get any gayer.)
This music feels right, because while the beginning of the piece perfectly captures that quiet and stillness, the rest is all about setting the scene for an entire new story to come, and a tale to be told that brings back decades of friendship and history. For now, I take in the beauty of the moment, the promise of a spring day, and the memory of some very dear friends.
