Tonight a fine, fresh mist blanketed Norman and when I arrived home from work, the breeze stroked my cheek and the mist kissed my lips.  A restless longing stirred within me. I dressed warmly and went into the dusk. I ended up at the Norman Mardi Gras Parade.

As twilight became dark, the wind became insistent, pinching my cheeks and biting my lips. I didn’t care. A wild energy filled me with a sense of expectancy.

I stood to watch the parade alone. I made no effort to gather candy or necklaces.  I simply observed.

Then the space around me was filled by a group of young revelers. A young man in a plastic fire hat saw I had no necklaces and placed some around my neck as he breathed beer into my face.   After that, I belonged.  We gathered necklaces and candy and bestowed them on one another. We sang “We all live in a Yellow Submarine……” at the top of our lungs. We danced to the rhythm of the Jazz in June Jazz Band.  We twisted to “Let’s Twist Again” blasting from the Octopus Float. The man with the fireman’s hat turned and hugged me. “Bye!” he yelled. They left as suddenly as they'd arrived.

On the way back to my car, I gave all my necklaces to a woman with a little girl.  “You don’t want them?” she said, obviously puzzled.

“No, I’m going home.” I smiled.  So I did, strangely comforted.