Not Everyday Miracles

What a miracle it is to be a drum major of one of the most amazing bands I've probably ever come in contact with. To be given the opportunity to stand in front of them tonight, facing the back corner and craning my neck to look back at Logan, and to be bombarded by this wall of cultivated sound that grew and grew til my heart stopped and raced on simultaneously, not knowing if they truly needed me but relishing the fact that I was there jumping and gasping and shaking and smiling for them, since I am lucky enough to be in this band at all, that is something I will never forget and will obviously take excruciatingly long run on sentences to explain.

What a miracle it is to associate with the great Joseph Baldwin, the newest member of the All-American Army Band. He smiled and bowed with the utmost humility and almost made me forget that I was currently having an asthma attack brought upon, literally, by conducting the band inside. As he gave his speech, reminiscent of an Oscar acceptance, he thanked all the people who made a difference in his musical and personal lives. He called my name, slipped in right at the end of his four years' worth of drum majors. I would have never imagined being in the acceptance speech of someone so noble for such an honorable award. Cameron began to ask less and less frantically what he could do to help me breathe as his eyes began to well up. I was perfectly fine with that; heaven knows I cried enough later. He talked about both the team and the individual and the effects we can have on the people around us, and I decided we need to have him come to our last drum major sectional to talk to the bright future of the band again. He got a well-deserved standing ovation, and i couldn't help but smile. What a good kid.

What a miracle it is to dance in the snow you had hated so much this morning. To dance around in a tshirt and short shorts and barely feel the cold was impressive in itself, but the real beauty came in the palaces of ice, falling under a golden light, as if to make sure us humans have something to be happy about.

What a miracle it is to come home, paint a shirt for my Phineas costume, watch The Colbert Report, and find out that one of your best friends of the past has finally published it.

I love being a human.

(I hate how late I've allowed myself to stay up.)