Dancing in the Streets

Sometimes it is easy to wallow. A common wallow-worthy situation for me: no one to do anything with.This is a particularly frustrating affair because I like doing things. Accustomed as I was to being in a college setting, where friends are abundant and there are countless ways to pass the time, (most of which can be turned into a drinking game that I never learned) I have struggled to find people outside of that environment. But something I have striven to improve over this last year, is my willingness to go outside my comfort zone and find new experiences. Thus on Saturday, close to entering a wallowing state, I forced myself out of my apartment, into a day that called for rain, and ended in nothing but sunshine, and joined the world of the living.  

Book and journal in hand, I landed myself at a coffee shop overlooking Broadway Ave. bustling with Hats Off Saratoga excitement. I sipped ice coffee and thoroughly enjoyed my own company as I watched Track-goers, shoppers, and families. From my pen, words escaped more effortlessly than they had of late, my observations fell easily onto the page, felt and understood. And when I could no longer resist the draw of the latest Harry Potter,  I opened my book and read ravinously of the 17 year old hero. 

After a few hours of time well spent, hunger nipped at my heels and pushed my feet homeward, but not before an involuntary smile found my lips at the sight of people dancing in the street to Irish music. Mothers spinning with 7 year old daughters, fathers stacked high with toddlers that adorned their shoulders, young and pierced punk couples moving in ways I doubt the Irish ever planned. I looked around at the gathered crowd and my smile grew. They too were smiling, their lips curving up at the corners in a way that betrayed the joy and amusement bubbling in their hearts. This group of people could not help but be impacted by the merriment in the air, and whether they were aware of it or not, they smiled.