Music fills the air, and everything smells like flowers and sugar.
I am in a small crowd that has gathered to watch musicians play outside, in a small seaside area near our hotel in San Diego. Locals, tourists, men, women, the very old and the very young, gathered together in music.
We are all captured by a rare sweet moment – one of those moments you can’t plan for and can never recreate. It is a welcome escape after a weekend that has overwhelmed me in its constant connection and movement.
I stand, leaning against the wooden siding of a café, near a bench where an older couple nod their heads in time to the music. I sip coffee, sneak bites of cookies out of a paper bag and try to wipe the foolish smile off my face. I feel silly, but I am not successful. So I listen, I smile, and I move to the music too.
The band is neither old, nor young, just guys playing together, filling the warm air with music. The sun shines down on us all, the trees and small buildings offering pockets of shade. I glance around – no one is rushing. Some eat ice cream, others are finishing meals on tiny patios and a few of us sip coffee. We listen, and we smile.
There is an older gentleman, elegantly dressed in black pants and a black short-sleeved shirt. He dances, welcoming any who wish to join him. He occasionally dances with a lady or two who smilingly accept his invitation, but he also dances alone.
Our toes tap as they jam, singing “…if the house is a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’.” We listen and sway to The Beatles classic “Let it Be”. The music is irresistible to a few; children spin and sway, and two older couples hold hands and boogie down as “Mustang Sally” fills the air. One tall man in a Tilley hat spins and twirls.
I stay for more than half a dozen songs, until the band stops playing. I can’t stop smiling.
It is a small, treasured memory that I will tuck away for a very long time.
It brings a smile to my face even now.
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