It's the Little Things

It is. The little things, that is. That's it.
When things get carried away, and stirred up and can feel overwhelming, it's the little things that offer you a breath of fresh air. One of my favorite little things is rather simple, and probably pretty rediculous to most people. But it's one of those little things that I hold on to, to catch my breath.

When people say "excuse me". That's it. That's all. For me.

So tonight, we went into Denver for the Taste of Colorado Festival. They had vendors of all kinds, food, jewelry, bags, posters, shirts, you know, the usual chaos of the festival scene. They also had stages set up with all different types of music floating in and out and over tents and crowds of beer-holding, burrito eating, stroller-pushing people. The main stage gave us America, which I was pretty excited about. Mostly for "A Horse with No Name" because, well, it's one of those little things.

For some reason, that song is significantly tied to my childhood, and my dad. I know he played it on the guitar, and I always requested it. And I think it's one of those things that probably means a lot more than he ever even knew. I just remember always feeling as if that was my song, for me and my dad. And it's one of those breaths of fresh air, one of those comforting moments, when I hear it. And there I am in Denver, and there is America on stage, on a lawn, on a beautifully sunny, crisp day.

So Lindsay and I are sitting there listening to America, and loving it. And there is this man behind us who appears to be homeless, dirty, alone and slightly in his own little world. But let me tell you, he was loving the music. He was singing along to himself, saying "yes...yes, this is great, yes." He knew all the words. And he seemed to be speaking to anyone who would listen, about how amazing this band is and how we should all be listening, and loving it.

Then Horse With No Name comes on. I'm in my glory, I call my dad and leave him what probably sounded like pieces of America, cheering and old man rambling on his voice mail. The man behinds us gets more and more excited and he notices that I notice. And I just sort of smile at him. And he says, "Oh, I'm sorry, I just...I just love this song, listen. I'm, I'm practicaly teary-eyed I'm sorry." And I say "Oh, don't be, I love it too." The song goes on and he stands up and is singing along and smiing ear to ear. Finally he comes over in between Lindsay and I and puts his hands out as if we should hold them and sing along. So I do, and so does Lindsay, and we sort of sway and sing along to Horse with No Name. And then he lets go and sort of retreats back to his spot behind us. When the song is over and America is done, he comes over to us in his haphazard sort of unsure way and says "Thank you girls, really, thank you." And sort of wanders away.

I think a little piece of both Lindsay and I's heart broke in that instant. Because he was obviously wandering away to nothing, and no one. And just holding his hands for 30 seconds, to his favorite song, was a little thing to me, and probably a much bigger thing to him.

So...it is the little things. It's the little things I try to hold on to, because you never know when they may be a much bigger thing to someone else.

Like...saying "excuse me." Sometimes we just need to catch our breath.