Sometimes I fool myself into thinking I’m alone. Even in the whirlwind of people that often surrounds me, I worry that no one understands or cares about the things that drive me. And so when I hear that line (above) in Jason Isbell’s “Alabama Pines,” I feel like someone hears me.
Then a friend (or four) arrives, and I remember I’m not so isolated, after all.
Last night, one of my closest friends organized a get together designed to cheer me up after a couple of exhausting weeks. When I got home, my roommate was vacuuming so I wouldn’t have to. The organizing friend soon arrived at my house, placed a box of pizza in my hands, then unloaded her party in a bag: two sixers of one of my favorite beers, two bottles of white wine, two dozen baby bites and a small carrot cake. My best guy friend and his girlfriend came over. We listened to my favorite music, played my favorite board game and ate my favorite flavor of cake. And we laughed, a lot.
Tonight, as I sat through an instrumental break at a concert, I mulled over the reasons we get up every day. No, I didn’t hit upon any brilliant or original thoughts. But as I drove home, I thought: People you love, especially on a cool Alabama night, windows down, stereo up–maybe that’s enough.