Today everybody is standing in rows, packed into this earth like sardines, rows of sweaty armpits and uncomfortable knees for miles. When people sit they lean against each other, they say “sorry, I know I’m sweaty, I smell” they say “gosh it’s so crowded in here” they say “whoops was that my elbow or yours?” Today everybody is breathing the same air, it’s humid, it’s warm, it’s moist. Today everybody is appreciating the shade of trees and saying, “smell that? I think someone is baking bread” and “smell that? I think it’s honeysuckle” and “smell that? It’s us. I kind of like it, actually.” The lakes are filled with air mattresses, people float in bunches next to each other, languidly gazing at the sky, they say “look at that! It’s a bird” or “look at that! I wonder how many people are on that plane?” Today people were uncomfortable but now they’re less uncomfortable. They’re not thinking about tomorrow they’re thinking about right now. Who’s that? How did you get here? Isn’t it wonderful that you can be here and I can be here at the same time? How come I never realized before how wonderful that is? You are alive and I am alive and it’s really wonderful. And maybe it’s just for today. But maybe today is enough.