Night Turf

Went night running.

The trees were still half budded, half empty, and the air stunk of pollen, but the wind was hot and light, cool when the impending storm fluttered in the sky distance between us.

The stadium was open and fully lit, we took to the center of the field, singing our pregame parts because of memories, and stretched, gazing up at the towers of empty seats.

I have a thing for empty football stadiums.  I lie on the turf and in the vast absentness I see a thundering crowd flaming in their own enthrallment.  The field is still but I detect the vibrations under my fingers of twelve thousand people who love what they see, what they hear, and how it makes them feel.

The field is long and green, with neatly painted lines and hashes.  I never see it empty.  I see crazy people, tanner than life would have otherwise allowed them to be.  Silver brass reflects the wide-eyed stadium lights.   The velocity is in control, the noise is piercingly beautiful.  We run around, we laugh like hell, we take feedback and put it into use and we get better.

And I guess it fits because drum corps to me has always been about taking something plain and empty and giving it meaning so I sit back in the abandoned stadium and I bring it to life with memories.  Memories that remind me that we all have the power to make every matter in our lives extraordinary, if we choose.

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