Good morning, good morning, good morning! Rachtheblog here with a narrative about one of my favorite songs. First, here’s our affirmation, one that applies to not only this story, but our own stories too.
I am learning to trust the journey.
Simon and Garfunkel started creating magic in the form of music in 1963. In 1970, they split up. Garfunkel’s side: betrayed, longing, and distrustful. How did Simon feel…
I recommend listening to this song while reading:
Generous, soft eye movements. Up and down, surveying the energy around me. The autumn air whips at my swollen face. The spirit of the high rises towering over me doesn’t intimidate me. As it soars above my insignificant self, the airplane dips lower. Hope startles me, and my eyes gleam, envisioning the perfect story. The perfect story where he’s not leaving, where the plane will land closer to me than Mexico. The silver, washed-out colors of the ship shift as the sun’s rays catch a different angle. The plane continues along, soon leaving my sight. Leaving my city. Leaving our city.
I don’t know where I would be without him. His journey begins now, at the moment he parted from the empire state. I cannot imagine a journey beginning for me, a lonely boy in New York.
I pass a booming store, with families entering and exiting rapidly like there isn’t enough time in the day. There isn’t. I catch a glimpse of the black box television set at the six-foot tall windows, revealing the weather report programming. No rain today, but the wind chill continues to get cooler as the morning transitions into mid-afternoon. I smile. My favorite temperature: 63 degrees. When everything began.
I cross the Brooklyn Bridge, the steel fences beside me overlooking the raging waters. Troubling water. The linking of two worlds, the connection of seas. I gaze across the river, grimacing at the memory of our honest parting. Honest on both sides. The splitting of two worlds, a disconnection of our strongest force— our partnership.
You’re shining now, exploring new possibilities. Stuck in the past, awaiting a new start.
The only living boy in New York.
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