…for the first time in months. I woke up to the sound of Keenan’s early alarm and after a hug and kiss, I was home alone.
I put on my purple robe (nothing sexy, a terry-cloth fat-kid size with very short sleeves and a monkey playing bass on the back) and dug around the webs for new music. I made some calls, did some work, put up dishes, made a peach pizza for noon-thirty breakfast and went costume shopping with Mary and Jesse on the Lower Haight shortly after.
Here’s when the good part happened. Mary dropped me off a few blocks from my house so that I could walk home. I passed by this mural full of black people singing, auras glowing. There was a perfect fall breeze that shuffled the leaves on the trees and sidewalk. The sunlight was twinkling all around and as if the good witch struck through my core I felt like, this is it. This is right where I’m supposed to be. I’m doing exactly what I should be doing in this moment. My head was clear and I loved everything. Then I just finished walking home, very slowly until I passed the mural of course. I’m doing mundane tasks now but that feeling is still in me, that glow of, “Oh yeah, this is what’s up.” This is what I am. This is what I do. This is what I love. This is an Adele Day.
To commemorate this very special day, here is one of my favorite songs of all time. Department of Eagles, In Ear Park.