had an email conversation with a friend tonight about the best days of my life. i mean days, a series of them, sunday afternoons in which everything was perfect. perfect not the right word here – perfect is an absolute state, this was not anything that could be assigned an absolute, because it was transcendent. i am talking about this exquisite music that perfectly defined the essence of sunday afternoons at the banana belt cantina on the beach in ventura california. the air, the heat, the dancing, and the music — the music. you couldn’t not love the music. Jonathan Raffetto Band, if you’re wondering.
each sunday we went, no matter what. each sunday was its own peak experience, three hours in a heaven so far beyond what any sunday school teacher ever dreamt of. i miss the days, of course, but i will always and forever be thankful that every sunday one late spring to early fall, my daughter and i went down to the beach, had some beers, and danced and sang and laughed and it was pure joy. pure joy.
i’ve had tears streaming down my face the whole time posting this. it’s a good thing, really, it’s mostly the intensity of realizing just how fortunate i am, to have had such summer sundays, almost two dozen of them (it’s almost always summer here) such a convergence of time and place and circumstance, how easily i could have missed this, and i would have never known the feelings or even suspected them possible. i would have never known. and this is a sustaining warmth, a faith based on the fact that yes, it can be perfect. no, no, not perfect — it can be transcendent. it is possible. see? i have a picture.