Friday, July 17, 2009

Just An Average Little Miracle

Last night I enjoyed a free concert at a local park with the Hoodies. I rode with Kerry and Mary Ann; Nick had thoughtfully gone early to save us seats in the shade. The barely-bearable heat slowly cooled and occasionally the tiniest breeze found us. For my pitch-in contribution, I made Karin's famous picnic sandwich (it's in the cookbook) with fresh pesto from my own basil. I haven't yet mastered the construction of the sandwich, but it still got rave reviews. The band was quite good and played for about two hours without a break. One of the singers was a petite woman, maybe 30 years old, with an incongruously huge, husky voice. Although I could live without hip-hop and Neil Diamond, I was very impressed with their skill and versatility.

After a few songs, some little kids got up to dance in front of the band, and then some moms joined them. Eventually, a few dads got in the spirit. I was watching one in particular, a good dancer with the kind of natural rhythm and loose-hip moves very few heterosexual men enjoy. He was dancing with his daughter, who was maybe 10-11 years old, trying to teach her a sort of Lindy or jitterbug. She was clearly having the time of her life, squealing with delight and beaming like a 1,000-watt spotlight. It was unrestrained joy, and I wondered if she would remember this evening, 10 or 20 years from now.

How glorious it was to be feeling better than I have in at least a year, and sharing that beautiful evening with the friends who have been with me every step of the way. They are still as kind and thoughtful as they've been since the beginning: "Are you okay? Do you need anything?" I indulged in a glass of rosé, courtesy of Gary and Kelly.

Life doesn't hold a lot of big miracles, but little ones are all around. Like the incredibly delicious fresh peach I've sliced on my cereal for three days. Like the radiant smile of a little girl dancing with her dad. Like the comfort of friends who will never let you fall. If you're paying attention, you can string them together like pearls, and and bask in their glow.


John said...

So beautiful... thank you.

Laura said...

I am trying so hard right now to do this. John's right beautiful post.