SOME ENCHANTED EVENING
Some enchanted evenings, I find myself playing better, and across crowded rooms, strangers engage by listening and applauding.
Having struggled last month on two different rounds of antibiotics for separate illnesses occurring just weeks apart, I was grateful, and glad, to finally have one such night this Saturday.
So it really bothered me when a server, clearly out of spite, stood in front of the piano, looked me straight in the eye, and started clicking his wine key like a castanet for a good five minutes.
Not because the music moved him and he was caught in the beat of it, but rather to explore with morbid fascination how he could publically demonstrate that he didn’t have rhythm.
And because I had recently found Joy, I held on tight with both hands, never letting her go.
Once I had found her, I held on with both hands, never letting her go, in case one of those hands should rise up to smack a jackass right across his ignorant face.