the sweetness in the air

I've been very happy lately.

I also have had absolutely no inclination to write, to journal or to blog. I've concluded that what creativity and insight I have as a person tend to flow on paper only when I am pensive and slightly unsatisfied.

But here I am, back on a Saturday night -- after a cold, brisk walk to the Smithsonian with my husband in the afternoon, a steaming bowl of Pho on our way back, and a nice nap cuddled next to him on the couch -- completely happy in bed, thinking about my friends who may be reading this hundreds, thousands of miles away. Aric, thankfully, is only a few blocks away sharing cigars and bourbon with his guy friends.

There have been moments in the past two weeks that have, literally, taken my breath away. One of them happened on inaugural weekend. Just as predicted, millions of people poured into the city. The morning of the inauguration, a buffalo run of people passed our condo building to get to the Mall and in the evening, most of the inaugural balls we saw on TV took place a couple blocks away from where we live. We breathed in the excitement and mostly observed the historic day from a distance. (That is, we didn't camp out on the Capitol Lawn for eight hours to get a glimpse of the president.)

Saturday night before inauguration, we got a phone call from a friend on the production crew for Sunday's inaugural concert that U2 was rehearsing at the Lincoln Memorial. Aric and I, with two other friends, rushed to the memorial, and as we turned the corner to the reflecting pool, there was a kind of sweet anticipation in the air, as though something good was about to happen. Then we heard Bono. It was pitch dark save for the light coming from the stage and the melody of "City of Blinding Lights." That walk along the frozen reflecting pool with my friends toward the Lincoln Memorial was my favorite moment that weekend.

It was a moment so spontaneous, so ordinary, so sweet -- one of those I may tell my grandchildren when looking back on 2009. It encapsulated, for me, the optimism that hung in the air for those few precious days.