Reunion
…post-covid meetings, a drive and the soundtrack to match
For the last few weeks, I’ve been watching the post-covid reunions showcased on the news and social media. I’ve gotten tearful watching grandparents seeing their grandkids in person as opposed to Zoom or a face time, siblings see each other and friends embracing after the long hiatus.
I finally got to be one of these people and the anticipation of seeing some family members and friends was overwhelming. After over 15 months of only face time and phone calls, Christmas Zoom bingo and virtual birthday celebrations, I felt safe enough to travel to see them. My weekend totally delivered. I filled the cup I had accepted as empty for so long. I thought that our virtual meetings, texts and blue tooth chats from the car were good enough. I’m one to focus on what we DO have as opposed to what we lack. I’m a chronic optimist. Seeing family in person — surprising some, hugging all and weeping amidst it all was both cathartic and joyful.
One part of the drive really took my breath away.
I had a stretch of about an hour during my six-hour commute that I planned what I would listen to. I am generally happy to plow through my podcast collection at 1 ½ times the speed (I can still understand what they are saying and I can listen to more when I play it faster). But on this stretch, I planned to listen to NPR’s broadcast of Joni Mitchell’s Blue album. It’s the 50th anniversary, and they streamed the remastered version and included an interview with one of my favorite musicians, Brandi Carlile. It was an hour and three minutes long and would be perfect for the drive. It ended up being a “moment.”
The electronic lady (my pet name for the driving app Waze) took me on some backroads versus highways with tolls…which was fine. I trust her. It had been rainy and cloudy all day but on this particular leg of the drive, the sun came out just in time to set.
I passed bean and corn fields whose leaves still wet from the rains, shimmered in the sunlight. There were lakes with fishing boats and little towns that are apparently “resort towns” in the summer. The sunsets over the water were epic as the rays streamed through the rain clouds still hanging out post-storm. Everything was green and new, yet strangely familiar. This was the state I spent most of my life in. And it was nice to be back.
This magnificent drive was the stunning visual to Joni’s soundtrack. I’m a little ashamed to say that Blue is new to me, though I’ve heard most of the songs, usually done by other artists. It was Brandi Carlile who introduced me to “A Case of You.” And, every time I’ve heard her do it, I’m left breathless. The whole album is like this. The order of the songs is genius, the lyrics, the vulnerability… Blue took my breath away.
I’ve learned a bit about Joni’s story through Brandi and through some of the publicity around the 50th Anniversary. To say she’s a bad ass and a pioneer is an understatement. No woman (ok no person) writes songs like this. The auto-biographical snapshot of Joni’s life is real, raw and full of truths.
Listening to that album start to finish was pure magic. The record was born the same year I was and it is timeless and a classic. I feel weird saying that because I’m so late to this Joni party. But, at least I got there.
This music, this drive to see these people, the surprises… it could not have been planned any better. It was a bunch of moments that added up to a massive pile of gratitude.
Was it that I finally felt safe enough to go there? Was it the peace of breaking free from some of the state restrictions? Was it the healthy anticipation and joy I allowed myself to feel as opposed to squashing the emotion and accepting that whatever happened is “ok” or “fine?” Seeing some of my people? The music? The landscape? The appreciation? Probably all of it.
