A few months ago a great friend of mine got married. Naturally, all the excitement turned to the Bachelor Party. I remember buying the ticket to Las Vegas, walking through the airport, and then boarding the plane back home while popping Excedrin Migraine and inhaling some Cinnabon minis. It all happened that fast. But sometimes the little details of a trip get lost in the feeling that of all life's ups and downs you just logged one huge UP for the record book. Slowly but surely the memories will come floating in to be labeled, framed, and organized in the library of my mind.
Coming back from Vegas there is a zip to life all together absent otherwise. Snapping fingers and striding around with Sinatra tunes on repeat in your head makes life pop like velour and white shoes. All one can hope for is to drag both feet in the afterglow, humming all the way back down to reality. I keep pulling up these memories as if someone threw them all in a hat and shook them up. I reach in feeling around for "the good ones" but they are all the same shape and size. Pulling out what looks like a polaroid of a close friend too drunk to walk, sitting indian style riding an escalator upstairs to another casino. That one is " a good one". Good ones don't always surface and that's when I wish I could just dump out the contents of the hat on the floor and walk over them looking for all the squares filled with color, the brighter the better, and then leave all the dim and blurry snapshots lying on the floor where they were most likely taken in the first place. In time those memories will surface less or become altered in story so long that they grow a little color of their own. However, in this moment, our short song and dance with Vegas is still fresh on the mind and each grab in the hat reveals a square filled with color from corner to corner.
A few months ago a great friend of mine got married. Naturally, all the excitement turned to the Bachelor Party. I remember buying the ticket to Las Vegas, walking through the airport, and then boarding the plane back home while popping Excedrin Migraine and inhaling some Cinnabon minis. It all happened that fast. But sometimes the little details of a trip get lost in the feeling that of all life's ups and downs you just logged one huge UP for the record book. Slowly but surely the memories will come floating in to be labeled, framed, and organized in the library of my mind. 
Coming back from Vegas there is a zip to life all together absent otherwise. Snapping fingers and striding around with Sinatra tunes on repeat in your head makes life pop like velour and white shoes. All one can hope for is to drag both feet in the afterglow, humming all the way back down to reality. I keep pulling up these memories as if someone threw them all in a hat and shook them up. I reach in feeling around for "the good ones" but they are all the same shape and size. Pulling out what looks like a polaroid of a close friend too drunk to walk, sitting indian style riding an escalator upstairs to another casino. That one is " a good one". Good ones don't always surface and that's when I wish I could just dump out the contents of the hat on the floor and walk over them looking for all the squares filled with color, the brighter the better, and then leave all the dim and blurry snapshots lying on the floor where they were most likely taken in the first place. In time those memories will surface less or become altered in story so long that they grow a little color of their own. However, in this moment, our short song and dance with Vegas is still fresh on the mind and each grab in the hat reveals a square filled with color from corner to corner. 
Awesome blog.....love it,and love you:)
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