the music shuts off.

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We gather the rhythm of the music overhead. We find a partner and sway under the mason jar light fixtures – the kind that make backyards look like fairy tales. We laugh because we feel the carefree night erupting in our veins and we only have steam for each other. Our bare feet move to the beat of the 90s songs and we laugh up at the sky as if it’s telling a secret joke to only us.

To be in the present is to exist. It is also to forget.

We hear all the sounds around us: people talking, laughing, the music playing. We hear the sound of bare feet against pavement and beneath them crunching grass. We feel all the feelings. The light, airy, heart so lost in a glorious moment, the lust for the partner we choose to dance with, the yearning for the night to never end. And we smell summer and love and life. The smell of a fire and fresh cut grass and beer.

But in those hours when our heads and hearts are lost on another nature- formed dance floor our memories are still alive. They may have chosen to sit this dance out or walk out that door but it’s only for tonight. They’re being generous, giving you time that they’ll snatch away tomorrow.

They’re being manipulative, forcing you to believe in a reality unknown. A reality full of happy hearts and playful lives and gentle waters. One that will be gone when you roll over in your bed tomorrow and are greeted with empty sheets.

It happens fast, it pours out of you all at once, it covers your pillow in tears. And you realize that things aren’t always how they seem and people change and the music shuts off. And time moves on.

photo credit

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