Have you ever felt like you're the star in your own movie? Something happens, perhaps just something small and silly, or maybe something big, and then just the right song comes on the radio at just the right moment . . . it feels like you're hearing the soundtrack to your life as it plays out in slow motion.
It happened to me this morning, and I'm so disappointed with myself that I didn't take a picture! It would have been so easy. Bummer.
I was driving down a road that is deep in the country, and even from a distance I could see there was a gathering in the middle of the road.
Seagulls! A whole herd of them just chillin' in the middle of the street.* I could see them from about a quarter of a mile away as they yakked and yapped, exclaimed, blabbed, gossiped . . . generally they looked like a bunch of kids out at recess. A couple wallflower birds on the outskirts were standing around--disapproving chaperone's--and they muttered and complained about "these kids today."
*Deliberately avoiding any kind of 80's reference that would detract from the imagery of this glorious morning.
I felt bad breaking up the party, but they were right in the middle of the street, and I wasn't sure what else I was supposed to do. I was certain they'd fly off as soon I got closer, but as I neared and started slowing down, down, down, those darn birds looked right at me and just toddled along, disgruntled and insolent.
What a killjoy! one bird confided to another, glaring at me.
Just ignore her and she'll go away, that's what my mama always taught me, he responded, turning his back.
Their little chests were puffed out indignantly, and I just kept inching closer and closer, hoping the birds would get the point.
It wasn't happening, and I didn't have time to turn around and go about six miles out of my way, so I tooted my horn at them.
It worked! It was so surreal; the birds started lumbering jerkily away from the car, then spreading their wings and pumping, pumping, pumping until . . . finally! They rose upward like huge cargo planes. They hovered in awkward angles mid-air, graceful yet clutzy right over my car, and the song on the radio was Do you believe me now, which has a cheesy/uplifting kind of sound.
I felt like I was in a movie!
I looked out my windshield at their heavy bodies--a confused, jagged mass--and the entire tumble of points and lines and feathers rose in front of my car, their flight matching the rhythm of the slow crescendo of the music.
The soundtrack surrounded me, was a part of me, inside of me, and behind gawky, graceful mess the sky was blue, blue . . . I leaned into the steering wheel to keep watching them as I drove slowly forward, smiling.