“Welcome to the moment you are currently in” the wall in the subway says as I pass by, fumbling with my ipod. I want to hear that song, the song I played over and over at the end of the winter when a sudden loss left me with a restless walking blues, driven driven and walking block after block, like the harsh stomping of my boots could drive my questions into the cement and bury them, like the repetitive metronome of my stride could soothe my bewilderment, like the simple crude passing of time and miles could be an anodyne.

I want to hear that song now, a song with such sad words but a provocative happy up-beat, the perfect pairing of the sweetness and bitterness of having and losing. There is a place in the middle when the keyboards break out like the sun from behind heavy clouds, a brilliant burst and the vocals soar out and at that exact spot one wet winter dusk I threw my head back on an empty street and howled in release.

That’s what I want to hear, a glorious radiant wash of relief and confession and sorrow and hope, I want it to break over me pounding as the air starts to vibrate, the floor starts to tremble and the train thunders into the station.

Welcome to the moment I am currently in.