Two precocious little girls danced while we played Moon River. They flipped their hair in tandem and giggled till they were red-faced and breathless.
Sometimes things are right in the world.
The Asian autistic boy moved to the Blues in B-flat sax improv. When the song finished, he shook his hands, lifted high, like the deaf people do in applause.
Sometimes things are right in the world.
My husband looked on and felt like he was playing piano with me. We must be one.
Sometimes things are right in the world.
The shy single woman sat quietly through the whole set, smiling, never budging, just happy and still.
Music.
Good food.
Little girls giggling.
Autistic boys dancing.
A husband who loves me.
This is all that is right with the world.
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