Have you ever experienced true serene happiness? That feeling of utter quiet bliss in the moment where you want nothing yet have it all? Even for a moment? I have; a few times. But the first is the most memorable.
I grew up in a blue-collar suburban neighborhood in Orange County, California. Middle child of five kids living in a small four-bedroom home with mom and dad. My family was much like the others in the neighborhood.
My best girlfriends lived next door to each other across the street. As teens in the 1970’s, us girls were expected to do the household chores. And we did. I went across the street to help them, and they came to my house to help me.
By the mid-1970’s my mom worked, and I had a stepdad. One fall day, it was my turn to clean the whole house before my mom got home from work. My best friend, Patti, and I, having the house to ourselves, cleaned and vacuumed for many hours. Finally, around 5 or 5:30pm, the house was done, and Mom was going to be home soon. So we had a little time to sit and catch our breath. We opened the west-facing front door to allow the breeze to come in. The sun was setting, and I could easily see it from the front door as I lay on the sofa in the small living room, relaxing and reveling in the now clean house (it wouldn’t stay clean for long). My friend turned on the kitchen radio and came to lay on the love seat kitty-corner to the sofa I was on. After a bit, “First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” sung by Roberta Flack, came on the radio.
The house was still and quiet except for this beautiful song. My best friend and I sort of got into a zone without even looking or speaking to each other. The sun colored everything a warm golden peach as it shone into the living room. And just like that, this amazing sense of peace, perfect beauty and happiness came over me. Patti and I didn’t speak or look at each other as we lay there. The sun, the breeze, the ethereal music and the sweet bond of friendship bathing us in bliss.
The last notes of the song faded out, and the magical feeling wafted away. And then, from my place on the sofa, I could see my mom pull up to the front curb. Me and Patti both got up and quietly looked at each other, moving to turn off the radio and get ready to greet my mom. We didn’t say anything, but I think we both tried to hang on to the feeling for as long as possible.
We are still best friends, and I don’t think I ever told her how special this moment was and what an impression it had on me. How the feeling still lingers in my heart and soul. I am not even sure she had the same experience. But maybe we don’t need to talk about it. Maybe just let it be.
Jackie's Bower 