6:07 a.m. Wednesday morning, I walk out of my friend's apartment. My brown-leather, jane-stitch boots stop at the door saddle right before I step into the 29° chill that is Cambridge, Massachusetts. My hands find my in-ears in my left pocket. One ear, two ears.

Play.

The boots step out of the door, up the stairs and make a right to what I soon notice as east. With the first beat of Jose Gonzalez's version of "Heartbeats", my iPod reads my mind. At that moment, I'm very glad to be walking toward the light with my little red rolling suitcase rather than away. For some reason, the cold makes it that much prettier... as if everything, except me, is moving slower due to the frigid air.

After all, I was dressed for work and had a train to a bus to catch straight back to Madison Square Garden. I have places to be, things to do, but as I approach the steps to the train station, I slow my steps to play the song one more time.

And then proceed to fall down the stairs. Head over suitcase.

When I reach the bottom, I sit there for a second and pause to think about how I've been living my life in those past two days. In the past two months. In the past two years. All to the sounds of Jose Gonzalez's version of "Heartbeats".

I pick myself up with a big grin, a chuckle and a shake of my head. My life couldn't have been more perfect in that moment. With a tap of my Charlie Card at the gate, back to South Station, back to New York I go.