Tonight is a night to reflect on fleeting moments of joy. In the morning I will have completed one more circle around the sun. Even using the most long-lived of my ancestors as a benchmark, I've probably used up at least half of my trips. I hope I have paid attention to them well enough, appreciated the good times, and learned and grown from the bad. I am certain I have lived fully, to my own standards, if not to anyone else's. I am proud of much, ashamed of a little, and I only have one regret that is so sharp to me I would travel in time to fix it if it were possible. I'm still having fun doing what I'm doing, and I intend to keep circling the sun as many more times as I can.
There are moments that I love all the more for their transitory nature. Some things I don't want to pin down. Tonight I got in the car, and as I turned off of my street, my all-time favorite song started to play. There is no particular reason I love it. It's a song by Led Zeppelin that never appeared on any of their studio albums, and its lyrics aren't particularly deep. Something about the simple guitar at the beginning makes me feel like a happy, carefree sixteen year old again, and I absolutely love it. I made a point never to own this song. I never bought it on vinyl, cassette, cd, or iTunes. That way getting to hear it on the radio stays special, and when it's over, it's gone. I'm finding it much easier to forego a lot of material items the older I get. I'm learning more and more that stuff is just stuff, and it's my memories that mean anything to me now. (Although, I have not perfected giving up things that are one of a kind, like art and letters.) I have decided the gifts I want to give and receive now center on experiences. All I wanted for Christmas two years ago was to go to see one of my favorite bands, who rarely tour the US, and my man and I went the following June. (We bought the tickets at Christmas.) There was no concrete item that could have meant as much to me as a whirlwind 52-hour trip to Chicago--my first and only time there, two nights in a row of Marillion shows, and memories to last forever.
My hot water has been turned off since Saturday, when I found a stream of water flowing from the elderly, gargantuan heater unit. I probably could have turned it on again each time I wanted a shower, but I assumed that would mean the water would keep soaking the garage in the storage area I couldn't reach because of the shell of a jeep in the way. (Call me crazy, but I don't feel like rolling the jeep into the driveway, and watching it roll down the slope and keep going across the road...) So I decided it was worth it to me to deal with cold water sponge baths for a few days. It's not the worst thing I've ever had to go through, not by a long shot. The new tankless heater arrived yesterday, and the plumbers and electricians were here most of the day to install it today. I didn't realize how much I missed hot water until late today when I finally go to shower for real in my own house again. It was a sensory feast, only setting the temperature once, and breaking out a new "winter vanilla" soap... The water wasn't any softer than before, but it sure felt like it. The soap was different, but it was just plain old bar soap you get at the grocery store. Few showers have ever felt this good, and I cannot be certain any others will again. The experience of now was perfect.
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