bittersweet symphony

Completely unbidden, my mind drifted into melancholy this afternoon. There I was, tooling around, taking care of business at Next Adventure when I came across Them.
I run into this couple from time to time. The first time I saw them, it's probably been 4 years now, they were slow dancing at Holocene - completely unaware of anything else in the room except each other. It was very romantic. They're still together, and that's romantic too. One of the women in this couple makes my heart stop every time, god....and I think....damn!
And that 'damn' can mean so many things...I won't go into it - you know what I'm talking about.

I was at Bolt today, buying pillow stuffing and ran into Gina, who owns the shop (and looking beautifully pregnant, I might add). She asked me what I was up to and I told her; and I pretty much get the same reaction from everyone who finds out what I'm doing - there's this excitement for me, a little envy and they look forward to "living vicariously" through this journey with me. Which is all very good and sweet.
And it's funny what that brings out in me - today I'm tired of moving my shit around and a little frantic about getting everything done - so I'm a little less than excited myself. There's definitely a feeling of "what the hell are you doing!"
And then I saw this couple and I thought, man, if I had this -- I wouldn't have to be traipsing across the countryside to settle the romantic in me, 'cause it would be here already. Grass is always greener right? People say, "yeah, but if you had that - you wouldn't get to do this amazing thing. So true - and trust me, I'm not belittling my privilege or my fortune in getting to do this - but there are times...
And then I was cruising through Old Town, coming from REI, and I saw some of my former customers - still tethered to that scene - and this song came on the radio. It's a song I used to drive my bartender crazy with at The Shanty. I'd play it over and over again, while I smoked and drank pint after pint of Sierra Nevada and get deeper into my little pity party of the day. And as I'm driving over the Burnside Bridge back to the Eastside I thought - god, look where you have come from.
It's gonna be fine and I know that.
And she'll show up one of these days.