there is a band playing jazz outside close by my apartment. they've been playing for a while now. and the sound is so nice and clear. they were playing as i moved furniture around and discovered a very dead but very gross roach, who i am going to hope is a remnant of past problems as opposed to future ones. the jazz was flowing into the apartment as i put together a new piece of furniture wrong and then had to do it over again. it was flowing as i straightened up and as the dog tried to get me to pick him up. it was flowing when it felt like i may be close to having a panic attack and it was flowing when that sensation passed.
the jazz reminds me of dreams i've had for years.
i believe that sunday afternoons, especially during the summer but not only during the summer, are for playing jazz. loud. so loud that it fills the whole apartment and you open your windows and people can hear the faint sounds of jazz wafting through the air.
a few weeks ago i realized that since moving to this apartment, there hadn't been a sunday like that.
i know i have this belief and this dream because i spent many a saturday at my dad's house growing up forced to listen to jazz blasting. it wasn't until i was at boarding school that i realized that part of me liked jazz and part of me liked it blasting.
anyway, this dream of mine is still strong. when i imagine the future, when i imagine myself with a man who loves me and kids who, hopefully, don't hate me, i imagine us sitting in our home, listening to jazz on sunday afternoons.
and while that dream cannot be fulfilled completely yet, right now sitting on my couch, listening to the jazz come in from outside with the pup resting beside me (and that roach carefully disposed of and that new piece of furniture all put together), my reality is close enough.
thanks new york city for keeping the dream alive.