Consider the Wildflowers

A Playlist for This Blog To Set the Scene:

• Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go
• The Lion Sleeps Tonight
• Rollin’ on the River
• What a Wonderful World
• My Girl
• Eight Days a Week

Across the cove, a party is happening.

I park my car as I always do and quickly step out into the early evening breeze. Instantly, a wave of noise crashes into me–one that sends my head turning and my eyes focused on the scene I have stumbled upon happening across the cove.

I wish I could describe it and do it justice, but there are oftentimes when words alone do not suffice. But rather than try to come up with the perfect string of words and phrases to give your mind an image, I will tell you how I felt the instant I stepped out of my car.

I felt like I left my own world for a moment and stepped onto the set of a movie. I felt like I was twelve years old again, and I was sitting on the couch on a rainy Sunday with my mom as we started yet another rewatch of “Steel Magnolias” or “Father of the Bride.” I felt every warm and soft feeling that I have held deep within me rise to the surface–I felt them all rush to my heart and hold it there, comforting it, and I froze in time for a moment to appreciate what was happening.

Across the cove, there are rows of white chairs overlooking a glimmering lake. Twinkling string lights are wrapped around tree trunks and dangling between limbs. They hang lazily with a slight droop–one that is orchestrated just right to match the row it is closest to.

There are backyard games. I hear the smack of a bag against wood, marking the sound of corn hole. I hear a symphony of voices gliding across the water and singing along with the breeze–a whisper that reaches all the way to my side of the cove. The sound is made up of every voice and age. The underlying drone of adult chatter with the occasional child’s voice that interjects through the crowd with a loud, high-pitched, “woah!” “mom!” “ha!”

There is laughter. So much laughter. I hear the booming laugh of an older gentleman that reminds me of my grandpa. I hear the youthful chuckle of a younger man that reminds me of my uncles. I hear a child’s laugh–one that reaches my ears a little louder than the rest. And as I sit outside my home, I feel nostalgic. I feel reminded of my family. I feel a swell of emotions rising up inside of me–starting from deep within my chest and ending at the smile that can’t help but stretch across my face.

They are celebrating something. It could be anything. It could be a marriage, a retirement party, an engagement party, a birthday party. Whatever it is, it is joyous. I wish I could run across the cove and join them, or tell them to never cease celebrating. The scene looks too good to be true, too perfect to be real–it looks like one I’ve only ever seen through a screen, but now it is happening right in front of me.

I love the sound of people celebrating, of people enjoying each other’s company, of children playing alongside one another.

It is the perfect evening for a party. It’s July, but there is a fall breeze in the air tonight. I hear the cicadas and crickets and frogs and birds. A sporadic glimmer of a firefly accompanies the yellow, soft string lights the party wears. The evening is simply perfect.

I feel odd admiring such a scene from a distance, but my heart feels full with happiness and gratitude. Happiness that these strangers across the cove captured the most beautiful, unforgettable moment; and gratitude that I get to experience a rare, second-hand type of joy from witnessing their jubilation all the way across the cove.

I hope they keep celebrating and laughing. I hope we all do. I hope we all find time to stop and capture beautiful moments–moments that make us feel like we’re in a movie, moments that make us feel like we’re really living rather than existing.

I hope we all continue to find time and moments and occasions and most of all, people, that are so worth celebrating.