Realm of Third Person

Suddenly she was in a moment of elation, enraptured by the coo and tempo of the party, bursting with sensitvity and scene...
The day had climaxed. The pedantic purchasing of ornaments and garlands while gushing and trafficking momentous heart tangents with the girls was the hearthen fire rising the yeast in the dough of expectation. Liberating dynamics of feminine collision in friendship, set the minial day ablaze.
The party started at 6:00, the rushing started at 5:00, and she arrived on time at 7:00. The house of nine girls is never spacious, even less so considering the freshly decorated pine in the corner, and the bare floor cringed awaiting the cozy blanket of inflowing guests.
Dinner began, dancing, and greeting and the house gently jived with the people, the people spun around each other.
The girl's of the house of the nine, were awesome in splendor and glorious design. International attire and heartbeats of fire, a glow in their eyes, all the boys wearing ties.
Kyra would strum, Bri milked the keys, Ashlee on congas, all feet finding beat, and voices arose.
It's a moment of spinning and a moment of stillness; she was very unsure which notion was winning. The movement contagious, the acoustic so raw, the vibrations so sweet they tasted of awe. Melodies listed in sweet mixation, ingredients of the room, desert and din in congruent combination.
She moved to the kitchen and joined hearing a story, of war and of blood of sorrow and glory. Will shared of Iraq, showed the shrapnel scars on his back, they felt the sounds and rush of battle...the intensity of a moment that carries a life, carries a future, carries command.
The talk entranced and seduced yet was real, and she felt at that moment this was her complete capacity to feel.
But the night rolled on in the tunnel of laughter and love and a sorrow so subtle. The bond was so great and the relationships arose, they peaked and the pattern was quilted, knitted and close.
The dancing transformed, and caroling rose, the soft winking Christmas lights filtered the air like the scent of a rose.
Guitars strummed and friends laughed. She breathed so deeply her lungs thought of bursting, but her heart drank the life in the room with great thirsting.

A moment like this should never be forgot, life should never be lived as if this sentence were not. The bittersweet abundance in the tension of the memory, is enough that she will remain in me.