She She She

I’m going to write today. I am going to write today. I am going to sit my ass down and write today. I’m going to WRITE right now. I’m not going to try to keep you all abreast…the catch up, the backdrop, whatever happens when I don’t follow-up. I am just going to write. Now! damn it.

(cursor blinks). Eyes blink. Unblinking, I stare. What the hell am I going to write about?

She stood alone, on the sidewalk, violin in hand. Black night, street lamp shining down. Stage light. I didn’t see her there at first.

She played on the street, on my way home. She played in the cold and when I watched her sing, she looked unflinching, back at me. Somehow I heard her – over every other inconsequential thought in my head. I heard her sing over the radio and all it’s noise.

I couldn’t be sure until tonight-until I fought the urge to turn away and recognized the art in her vulnerability I couldn’t be sure, but now I am. We share a secret-her and I.   And it wouldn’t ever be more than a whisper among friends, but as she played there in the dark, cold air and I looked back, I knew this had gone beyond the secrecy of friends.

I say it out loud as the traffic began to move past her. I say, “We are the same.” This girl and I play for people driving, swirling, running past. She with her voice and her violin and me with my words, and every pain stakingly placed line to page.

And there it is. Once spoken, too real to take back. Whatever fear I have is the fear that I’ll lose momentum. I fear my ability to be a player the way she was- on the curb of a busy street on a cold, dark night, playing on the heartstrings of ordinary folk. I no longer fear the disappointment of never having tried.

Tomorrow night I’ll look for the girl singing and playing violin on the corner of State and Main. But tomorrow is a million years away and tonight I’m consumed by the sound of the violin and the cold breath from every word she sang.

Tonight we work together. Tomorrow we compete.

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