My friend Chris often used to say that the two best sounds in the world are that of a woman’s heels against the pavement and that of a champagne bottle being uncorked.
I think of that often when I walk down city streets in high heels. Click, click, click. Regardless of where I’m going, it somehow implies a purpose… I’m going somewhere… I’m moving forward. I’m walking. And I’m making a sound. I’m being heard.
This time I’m walking to meet an old friend. One of my original partners in crime. The one with whom it all began. I want to look into her eyes… I want to ask her where we went wrong. I want to ask her where we were supposed to stop. But she will probably just laugh it off.
“Don’t be silly,” I can imagine her saying. “It’s not like we killed anyone.”
And then we’ll get a drink. Maybe we’ll even open a bottle of champagne… and celebrate. Celebrate what? Celebrate life. Celebrate having survived. Celebrate our adventures; old and new; bad and good. It was all in the name of experience, right? Cheers. Here’s to experience. Clink, clink, clink.
The noise of approaching fire trucks suddenly pierces the air and interrupts my train of thought. There are always sirens in my head.