Wagon Wheel Old Crow Medicine Show-O.C.M.S.
The time is five in the a.m. and the day begins soon. I feel it coming on. It has not, however, started just yet. I awoke sometime in the hour of four, and then it simply felt wrong. Everything in me screamed for sleep, sleep until nine or ten at least. I tried, but this morning it is just not happening. Today, the Christmas of two thousand and nine, I was just meant to rise early.
So as I sat in my bed, plastic orange juice-filled cup to my left and laptop to my right, I supposed that now would be a good time to update the blog. My song of choice was to be “Here Comes the Sun,” the classic tune from the Beatles. Once again, I just did not feel it. Instead, I felt something else tug at me, something that I did not own. This something belongs not to me, but to five beautiful women. This morning, this something just feels right.
I tried to remember when the ceremonial “Wagon Wheel” dance came into my life, but I cannot pin it down. I can tell you, however, how. This strangely appealing banjo song country-waltzed into my life with five amazingly beautiful women. Now, do not underestimate the appeal of these women. A first glance at any of them will not suffice, and even a second, closer observation will leave you unsatisfied. There is something about each one of them that mysteriously grabs onto your heart, and it grabs on tight. They are the gentle sirens of whom you need not beware. They will not drag you down, but their genuine smiles and warm embraces will, instead, lift you up.
These girls, though they rarely bless me with their presence, always supply me with the moments of my life that I love the most. They all erode life down to the purest form- it is love and nothing more. And with thoughts of them, at now five twenty a.m. on this Christmas, I greet the morning. Rock me, mama, like a wagon wheel.
I love each of you ladies, and I cherish every moment that you give me.