Sometimes I tune in the Sinatra station on Pandora and just let my mind and my heart wander. For some reason the first note of a Sinatra song transports me to a New York I never knew, where fur coats, sharp suits, and dinner clubs speckled street corners, and couples danced the night away to big band style music, drunk on love and stiff drinks. To me Sinatra-style music exudes classic New York, and a time that I’ve longed my whole life to live.
Today as the sweet trumpet peppered music found it’s way through my computer speakers I floated back to distant memories with husband that in my mind represented such perfect moments. A night in our kitchen, where our relationship turned for the better after months of fighting and distance (Husband was interning in NYC at the time), as we realized we were both ready to commit to a life together. That night we swayed softly to the tune of a Pink Martini song.
Then I felt the heavy condensation of a hot humid summer night filled with twinkling stars and amber lights strung from trees. Husband looked dashing in his suspenders and tuxedo pants, and I twirled in my blue dress, as we danced the night away filled with love and appreciation of each other in the light of watching our two best friends having just joined the old married couple club.
Swaying back and forth, ever so gently to the music, nestled into the crook of Husband’s neck that I love so much, feeling the warmth of his body against mine, and smelling the sweet scent of his skin, knowing there’s no where in the world I ever care to be again.
I thank Sinatra, Fred Astaire, Dean Martin, Tony Bennett and the likes for inspiring a few precious moments of big dreams, love-filled moments, and warm feelings on this cool, lonesome winter day.