Good Vibrations

Three

That's the thing though, isn't it?

Everyone, everywhere, at some point in their lives is going to figure it out.

Have that moment that hits you harder than bricks and you realize, not only what you were searching for, but so much more than that.

In that moment, you feel as though you've realized everything.

And its stupid. How something so simple, so mediocre, could actually be the turning point.

The turning point in our story, career, our lives.

All because of one moment.

I guess that's just how life works.

In one moment, life can be made, or it can be broken.

I guess the thing about realizing things is, how far you're going to go with it.

You can sit on your couch, staring blankly and not doing anything about it.

Or not.

And see where that one little thought could take you.

To see where one second of thought can grow, and become something so much bigger.

One moment, one second, one thought, became change.

Not just in my life, not just in the people I met, but in the world.

That is what your moments can do.

You can change the world, with just one thought.

"What do you think Pop-Pop?" I asked anxiously, drumming my fingers on the rough wooden table in the dimly lit kitchen.

"Well...." He sighed, gently placing the paper down in front of him and pulling off his glasses.

"I don't think I could've written it better myself. A bit of tweaking here and there, and I think you're good."

"Really?" I asked, astonished.

"Mmhmm."

I laughed, throwing my head back and slapped my hands together.

"Pop, I wrote that in two minutes, I highly doubt its good enough for a national writing competition."

"Well," He shrugged. "You never know."

A sharp knock was heard on the door, and we both looked up to see my mother standing in the foyer of my grandfathers camper with her hand on her hip.

She tapped her watch twice, raising an eyebrow.

"Now dad, as much as I love Ariana spending time with her grandfather, if she doesn't get ready now she's going to miss her lecture."

"Is it really already time?" I wondered aloud.

"Yes! So get your butt ready, you've got to go!"

I pushed away from the dinette table, kissed my grandfathers cheek, and promptly raced right out the door.

Mom had left the door of our house unlocked, so I picked up my backpack and keys, smoothed out my wayward hair, and sat down on my front porch steps.

Zander had agreed to drive me to and from classes this year.

We had the same professor, so it wasn't really a burden.

I was nineteen, but it was my second year with art and music as my majors. I had originally started with law, but, let's face it.

It's boring.

Zander stopped at the curb, right on time, and I ran over, quickly getting into the passenger seat.

"Sup." He said, fixing his hair in the mirror.

"Nothing really." I fixated myself on reorganizing my backpack.

Zander and I were good enough friends to carpool, but we rarely had deep conversations.

And by rarely I mean never.

"What's that?" I asked, pointing to a flyer lying on the dashboard.

Zander shrugged carelessly, instead focusing on his GPS.

We were driving across town to campus, not Alaska.

I picked it up, quickly scanning over the dark printed letters.

"Huh." I was stunned. "Where did you get this?"

"My sister picked it up."

"Where?"

"I don't know, it just blew in the window. Some guy was just handing 'em out."

"Zander, do you not realize what this is?"

"A flyer?" He drew out the 'r' raising his eyebrow.

"A flyer that's more than fifty years old!" I practically shrieked.

"Aaaand?"

"Why would someone hand out a flyer more than fifty years old? For an event that happened more than fifty years ago?"

"Its a casting call for musicians, maybe he thought it was interesting and wanted to hand it out."

"That's ridiculous." I scoffed. "No one even plays folk rock music anymore."

And in that moment, the metaphorical bricks came flying at my face.