Rhapsody in Blues

Today is that day. That one day in February that pretends it’s spring, when spring is still such a long way off. I know that and I’m not missing it. No not this time. Not this year—nuh-uh—this year I am going to be part of it. I jump right on it.

Before you can say blue sky, I’m out of my jacket and in my little blue car. Before my blue eyes can blink, my keys are in the ignition. I’m out on a fabulous road trip. For whatever time I have, my little car and I are going to be on some mountain road with the top down under the biggest, bluest sky with my heart wide open.

I know exactly how few spring-like days come at this time of year and how few years we get to enjoy them. I’m not letting this one go anywhere without me.

I put in my CD of Rhapsody in Blue, turned up to blasting, and leaned back into the drive, knowing that life is just one long open road. It’s hard to keep my hands on the wheel. Gershwin almost demands directing or dancing—two things that don’t really go well with driving. I pulled the car over and pull up to some trees and a blue mirror lake. The view is genuinely beautiful. It makes me feel alive, authentic, exuberant. A real-life Rhapsody in Blue shining back up to the sky. I sit back and enjoy it.

How they came to be there, right where I wanted them. That’s how things work on spring-like days that come long before spring is supposed to. The breeze sliding through them moved with the horns wailing Rhapsody in Blue. I’m grateful there was a Gershwin. Today I love all things blue. Today I love all things any color. I love all people too.

The song ended, but the spring-like day is still here—in the sunshine, in the music playing through the sky above me, playing through my eyes so filled with life and beauty. I just hang around the lake for the longest time. What a lovely thing it is to have spring fever in February. I hope it’s some kind of contagious. More people should feel like I feel this very minute. My mom would say I am a kissing fool, and I haven’t even kissed anybody.

Finally, filled up and refueled. I start the car again and drive more slowly. This time I head back homeward, enjoying all I see. This time the music is Louis Armstrong.

And I say to myself. It’s a beautiful world.

—me strauss Letting me be