We have waded deep into competition season.
The cranes have invaded life, taking over thoughts and dreams.
The melody plays on a constant loop.
Pieces of the show hum through my thoughts during the day, the tune chasing me into sleep.
Life before cranes a vague blur. The things I used to do lost to the cranes.
I utter words, strange words. Crane-tastic. Crane-nado. Crane-pocalypse.
I paint cranes.
Draw cranes, adding color and covering them in glitter.
String tiny origami cranes onto fishing line and hang them in the band room.
Cranes on flags. Cranes on banners. Cranes adorning lockers.
And soon a giant crane shall land. Welcoming all to marvel at its greatness, to gaze upon the wonder of the Spirit of Woodlan. The chill-inducing music. The hypnotizing drill. The spectacular visual brightness of the guard. An old legend of a wish.
The cranes have us locked in a spell. One of numerous victories. A journey yet to be completed as the story continues to be told.
Support these hard-working musicians. Send them positive energy. (They need it!)
Come and find delight in the cranes that demand attention, that have marched into life to add color and hope.
Someday, long after the competitions are over (perhaps by December), the cranes will slowly fade, the music not a constant hum, but the memories will linger, leaving a reminder to wish, to persist, to find peace.
BE CRANE-TASTIC, SPIRIT!