Such Small Scenes

Two inches above the city skyline, a nebulous glow pierces though naked branches resting along the park’s edge. “I should have left sooner” I think, regretting that second snooze I hit twenty minutes ago. And while the weather app assured me that the sunrises at 7:37am on this chilly winter day, I quickly realize that the magic of the morning surfaces before the sunrise.

The magic that’s in a hue unavailable to humans, colors and concepts too abstract for artists to grasp. Even as a writer, the sunrise leaves me speechless and yet, I attempt to describe and document the wonders of what I witness.

At 7:35am, I drive up a hill of a quirky neighborhood, where dilapidated porches compliment Halloween decorations that survived the holiday season. I park behind an old Honda across from a vacant baseball filed, grabbing my coffee and headphones to pair with my parka. Within a couple steps towards the park, I make a quick turn to triple-check that I’ve locked my car and can’t help but wonder how the hell this Honda can see through the opaque covering of it’s tinted windows. I peak though my windows, clearly seeing the bags and backpacks that pile up in my passenger seat. It’s not all of my belongings, but enough to get by if I decide that today was the day I finally make the move.

With my pink earphones on, I turn to the next song queued on my Daily Mix. Discombobulated drones and drums rumble though my ears, introducing the song: “Such Small Scenes” by Lewis Del Mar. The familiar opening sends me back to a summer of angst as this artists always reminds me of a man I once loved and who loved me back, but didn’t love the idea of being with me.

As the static settles, the vocalist hums and a guitar begins to strum.

Swimming in my new life downtown
Now I realize
Never felt at home in my hometown
And it's no surprise

The lyrics penetrate as I scan the Kansas City skyline, thinking to myself, “such a small scene.” I then think of the man before mentioned and his story of meeting the guys of Lewis Del Mar while surfing off a beach of New York City. He was enamored by their freedom to create and play - both in music and how the musicians spent their days. I think of this man, imagine his encounter with this band, and remind myself once again that my creativity flows through me wherever I go, but freedom waits for me in cities I’m soon about to know.

I pick a bench at the edge of Observatory Park to observe the breach of the day - when the sun splits off of the horizon and comes out to play. Ribbons of pink and orange and a few threads of green that weave through the sky slowly draws towards the big, billowing star surfacing in the East. I focus my eyes into the center of the sun, mesmerized by the way it absorbs every color that I see. Switching to a song to meditate with, I settle in the steel park bench and breathe.

I’ve worked hard to establish myself in this town, but my work longs for a new city and a bigger scene. My hometown will always be my hometown, regardless if and when I leave.