[The following (upbeat) post was written the day before my mother had the emergency that put her in the hospital and eventually took her life. However, I felt I should post it now instead of deleting it, as we revisited the restaurant last night and the memory brought me comfort.]
We were in a restaurant that we hadn’t been to in a while, inspired by the the post-credit scene from The Avengers. Yeah, we knew a shawarma joint about two blocks from here. Okay, more like two towns from here.
Only the place we go is trendy, unlike the one in the movie scene. Has a bar, but no dance floor. Open kitchen. Really just a family restaurant with exotic atmosphere. Plays my favorite kind of music: progressive house. Oh, sure. You didn’t know? I’m one of those graying old skool kids. Surprise. So…
We’re sitting there near the kitchen, finishing off our tasty shawarmas and people-watching. Then a song from my current repeat-playlist starts to fill the room. It’s one that speaks to me during this strange time in my life.
David knows it. He holds my hand. We listen.
But then something unusual happens: I notice an older woman nodding her head to the music. Then another woman, much younger than me, dancing by the hallway near the bar. I see a man at the bar whose lips are moving to the words. And another woman near the window tapping her hand in time with the bass line. One of the servers at the soft drink station briefly sways to the beat.
I mention it to David.
He sees another guy, sitting somewhere behind me, thrumming to the music.
“Yeah. And to think when we walked in, they were strangers.”
I was struck by the idea that a song that moves me also moves others. That, for a brief time, we were all connected by one song. In a restaurant—not at a rave.
I loved it. It was a fascinating part of an already-good day.
Oh, and: no, I’m not sharing which song. Maybe I’ll catch you in a restaurant one day and we’ll see what happens next. Shawarma, anyone?