Sunday, November 7, 2010

Sounds at Night

The difference between happiness and sadness is a matter of perspective.

You see a weed, she sees a flower.

She sees an ending, you see a beginning.

You see a problem, she sees an opportunity.

She sees a beautiful child struggling with disabilities.

You see a beautiful child struggling with disabilities.

Tick-tick-tick... Sssssss... the clock on the wall and the new logs on the fire sing industriously as one marks the passage of time and the other eradicates elements that hinder combustion.

I sit in my office at 10:30 on a Saturday night wrestling with a new web server whose precise location is a mystery: Florida? Nova Scotia? Bombay? Kansas City?

As if teleporting from another dimension, I vaguely hear three distinct tones emanating from phone saying, "Beam me up Scotty!"

The tones rip through the dense fabric of gotta-get-it-done work that has shrouded my day, like a dinner bell interrupting the worlds longest backyard ball game on a hot August evening.

I tear my eyes away from my MacBook and notice the green LED atop my Droid doing everything it can to draw me into my phone like those guys along Broadway in Times Square handing out flyers promising delight and fulfillment. My thumb caresses the touch-screen, sliding the lock and revealing a message from Jonathan who's "just checking in".

Our text-enabled banter is like a secret code relayed via cell and microwave towers from tree house to tree house. Not sure if anyone intercepting our transmissions would have a clue as to what we're talking about. Though I think the dismay would be found in the, "Why?" as in, "Why are these two guys talking about this on a Saturday night?"

And yet those beam-me-up tones are an unexpected gift. They're the brake lights of a passing car on a cold winter's evening as a friend driving by recognizes you in his rearview mirror and offers you a lift. They're the sound of the of the carnival still in full swing as you finally arrive in town anticipating having missed everything. They're the warmth of your lover's slow-breathing body calmly lying close to you after an evening of chaos and turmoil. They're pure joy.

I quickly text my reply and before my phone is on my desk, I hear "Beam me up, Scotty!"

Our dialogue continues, a language of catch phrases, obscure references and movie quotes. One that is either completely inaccessible and obtuse, or lazer sharp in its precision and brevity.

Three little tones that recast my entire day and transform my night.

Happy Sunday,

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