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Ode to the Hour Before the Party

Kai Moreno

Ode · Friendship · Hope

Praise the hour before, when nothing has gone wrong.The chairs still trust each other in their rows.The ice is winning. The playlist is a promiseno song has yet had time to break.

Praise the bowl of something, and the other bowl,and the doorbell that has not rung, and the youof an hour from now, laughing at somethingyou cannot yet imagine, with a personwho is, right now, on a train, becomingthe best part of your night without your knowing.

Praise the not-yet. Praise the still-could-be.Praise the small held breath of the tidy roombefore the beautiful ruin of the evening,the spilled, the shouted-over, the too-loud, the real.Praise the hour that only exists as almost.I have loved almost more than I have loved arrival.Praise it. Then open the door. Let it end.

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Up nextThe Inventory of Small MerciesSome days the mercy is small and you have to look for it. A dog that decides you are worth crossing the road for. The bus that waits. The stranger who says take your time, and means it, in a country not built for taking time. I keep a list because I am the kind of person who forgets, by evening, that the morning was survivable. Item: the way the light came through the one clean window. Item: that no one, today, asked me how I was really doing, which was itself a mercy, because I did not have the answer folded small enough to hand across a counter. Item: I was, at three in the afternoon, for the length of one song in a corner shop, completely and stupidly happy, and did not question it — which is the rarest item, the one I am always losing, the one I write down first.