To The Stranger I Met The Night Before My Birthday

Picture this:

A young man in black shoes, olive-colored pants, a red button-up shirt, and a cowboy hat is writing in his notebook. He has his headphones in and he stops writing every few seconds to pause…….

Meanwhile, the Los Angeles airport operates as usual - tourists and people who call themselves locals move about the terminals. It’s a national holiday and you can see the colors of the flag in the earrings of young girls and the cargo shorts of fat, middle-aged men.

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One of my favorite things to do is dream. In fact, I’m dreaming more of the time than people realize. Dream with me a moment.

What’s your ideal holiday? Where are you? Who are you with? What are you doing? How does it feel, smell, look?

I ask people questions like this often. Small talk can grow into something tall, sometimes, if you do it right.

Want to know something magical?

When I think about how I would spend my ideal birthday, it’s the story of how we met. Spontaneously and by chance, brought together by mutual passions. With Bon Iver and good friends.

REMEMBER THE DANCEFLOOR.

Listen:

Take nothing for granted. None of this had to happen unless all of it did. Maybe there’s space in between, but no one knows. Be shocked by it. Be in awe of it. Take nothing for granted.

Whenever I’m in places like this (airplanes) I realize that all the people around me are, in fact, connected to me. If something went horribly wrong, like this plane going down, we’d be left with only ourselves and each other to rely on.

Even the person that made me want to sink to the holes of my headphones when he sat down next to me earlier.

It’s just us, my dear. Take no one for granted.

We intersected each other’s lives and now we know each other’s bodies hold the memory. It didn’t have to happen. Unless it did. Either way, it did happen. You’re in my synapses and fingertips now.

All this schooling, all this societal learning, peeling back layers of commercial sludge from our eyes. What’s it trying to hide?

Why do some people feel so different while others feel so close - sitting at the same happy hour in an Amsterdam-themed bar in Saint Paul - making eye contact for the first time?

Listen: Someone will always be the captain of the basketball team. I hope you feel competent and empowered in this long emergency. You’re not weak, girl. You’re a warrior. Accept it, please. I need that from you. So do they.

You’re ready now.

You’re not done learning, but you’re ready.

Now, fly.

Roman

P.S. I want to be the breeze that runs through your hair, wild. The breeze that lifts your dress and cools your sweat.