The Zone of Lasts

The Zone of Lasts

I' ve entered the zone of lasts...the last time I will soak in the red hue of downtown, feel the wind whipping as I race down the main drag on my bike, savor the scent of dry flowers as I walk past my favorite shop admiring the tree of lights glowing all year on the inside...

Last Wednesday I sang for the last time at the farmer's market. Afterward, I made a conscious effort to truly enjoy the hearty meat sauce of my gramigna while admiring the string of lights highlighting its steam. The air was just a bit biting, announcing that fall had already turned the bend.

While I had been singing, the jazz singer Cristina Zavalloni passed by on her way to the cinema. I halted in the middle of my performance to hug her. Was it our last hug? She sat and listened to me for a while, and then we gave our last wave.

A little while later, someone stopped to mouth the words of a song I was singing. It took me a minute to realize he was a guitarist I had sung with years ago. We didn't say goodbye because he left in the middle of a song, but I saluted him as he went. He didn't know it was the last time he would see me, but I did.

It's like the universe is plopping people in front of me so that I can close a circle. This series of lasts will lead to a series of firsts. So, although being at the precipice brings nostalgia, it's also a take off point full of excitement. I just have to have faith and take the plunge.

Photo: 

<a href="https://pixabay.com/users/nghangvu-13510079/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=4509881">Nghang Vũ</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=4509881">Pixabay</a>

Text: Kristen Mastromarchi