Wherever the excruciating music was coming from, it had to stop.
What is that? Is someone blasting that–cheesy pop–from their car? Is it a ringtone? Stop, stop!
I took a few steps further but the sound still followed.
I was at the corner, no change.
Wherever this terrible music is coming from, it has to be close.
Oh, it was close all right.
I walked half of Main Stream this morning not realizing I was blasting the Fresh Beat Band’s “Bananas” from my phone. With each step it got louder, as it bounced in the strap bag dangling against my behind. I’m like Radio Raheem from “Do the Right Thing” blasting “Fight the Power” on his boombox, but totally different.
…At the gym I rinsed my mouth out with handwash.
I’ve never used mouthwash at the gym. This is not something I do regularly. I never noticed the little stacked cups before, saw them and thought, oh, how great, I could use a little refresh! (verbatim). Without thinking at all I took a cup, held it under the soap dispenser. The fact that it was a white gel and not a minty green liquid didn’t even phase me. I took a shot of the soap. Blech. Then I really needed the mouthwash.
…Driving home from errands before you guys fell asleep in the car. Passed out cold with your chins in your necks and you, Baby Boy, with a Mets hat over your face like a man you’re afraid to shake on the subway. I’d just spent $34.99 on shoes at Payless for you we didn’t need. I met another twin mom at a birthday party once, and we talked about how you can tell a twin kid.–“Ever notice how other kids have different pairs of shoes? Like, two sneakers? A slip on and a buckle dress shoe?”–Because trips Stride Ride cost $150, we tend to by one shoe. You each get one sneaker each for the season. One dress shoe. Twin moms are shoe nazis, No excess shoes for you!
So, there I was driving, with you guys fast asleep in the backseat wearing new shoes bought for fun, a flip flop and a sandal. And the sun was shining and the windows were open. The sun roof, too. My hair was blowing in the breeze that was warming my cheeks, my arms…
Arcade Fire’s “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)” came on the radio. I turned it up.
And I drove.
Just like that moments sneak in when you feel like everything is going to be all right.