“Do you ever get restless?” my wife asked.
Do I ever get restless?
Do cats ever go to sleep?
Good lord, we’ve been sheltering in place with limited contact with others since the middle of March. I’ve had itchings to leap into the car and race away, to find some sanctuary at a beach. I’ve sighed over ideas of meandering through book stores. Favorite places get longing looks as I drive by. Small heartaches are felt as advertisements to travel slip past. When will we safely do these things again?
Last night, I sniffed the cooling summer breeze. The breeze smelled like that time I was on Sicily, and recalled a moment on Okinawa, and a summer night in the Philippines. The breeze reminded me of being in bed in Virginia, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and West Virginia when I was a child, and being on holiday with my wife in Astoria, Hawaii, and California. Recollections of living in Germany, standing under the Eiffel Tower, and visiting Korea rode that breeze in. A little bit of the Carolinas, Texas, and Florida came in on that breeze. Other times in Oregon and New Mexico rose on that breeze.
So, yeah, I get restless. After she asked, and I was outside later, staring at the night sky (cloudy, so saw nothing but clouds), a line from Weezer’s “Island in the Sun” (2001) streaked through my stream like a summer meteor.
That was followed by that lovely, low key refrain, “Hip, hip.”
h/t to Genius.com
Yep, feeling a bit restless today. I’d love to be on an island in the sun. Hip, hip.