One of the bravest things I ever did, at a time in my life when I was not particularly brave, was to stand in line for free rush tickets to see Rent on Broadway. I travelled alone, waited in line alone, and sang “Seasons of Love” at the top of my lungs by myself in a crowd of people I didn’t know in order to score free tickets. It worked. I was able to stand in the front row and indulge in a groupie experience that for me has been the penultimate mark of my Gen X status.

Rent is resonant with me on a lot of levels. I was among the generation who lost so many friends, lovers, neighbors to AIDS. I have found family in my friends, and created home from nothing. I have been all manner of snarky and dark, as well as unconditionally and naively loving, in my relationships. I recognize every pop culture reference in La Vie Boheme. I still load my two disc Rent soundtrack in my car on road trips, crank it up and sing at the top of my lungs. I still cry when I hear, “Will I Lose My Dignity…” and feel my spirit soar when I sing, “there’s only now, there’s only this…forget regret, or life is yours to miss. No other road, no other way…no day but today…”

I still take those words to heart.

Why do I remember all this today? Because my small point of light arrived in the form of a young man who was chaining up his bike as I headed out of my office on the way to my car. He was lost in song, his sweet tenor voice spilling out from his soul:

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter and in strife
In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, a year in the life?

How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love

Seasons of love

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand journeys to plan
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure the life of a woman or a man?

In truths that she learned
Or in times that he cried
In bridges he burned
Or the way that she died

It’s time now, to sing out
Though the story never ends
Let’s celebrate
Remember a year in the life of friends

Remember the love
(Oh, you got to, you got to remember the love)
Remember the love
(You know that love is a gift from up above)
Remember the love
(Share love, give love, spread love)
Measure in love
(Measure, measure your life in love)

Seasons of love

He could have stopped singing. I could have kept walking.

Instead we both connected, for a brief moment of song and a small point of light. And sometimes, in that singular moment, life really does hold everything that we need.

No day but today.