Harmony in Golden Hours

The senior's activity lounge was bathed in buttery afternoon light, after our live concert music flew,  the air mixed lights that turns motes into glitter and wrinkles into a map of well-traveled life. My French Horn still has rest of temperature, its bell still warm from the last note, we just finished our small chamber music piece: What I like about you. It sounds how young of the voice melody, it bring them into a memory.

When we play this piece, this classic melody unfolder like a shared breath, my horn poured out the notes, low and honeyed,  Tanner's trumpet twirled around, Jerry's clarinet picks up the connection next each other,  those just like a dancer recalling the waltz waving, and make a foundation for the stories that we even didn't yet know we were telling. With the melody flew, the room had transformed, fill with smiling, they nod with feet, clap with hands or mouthed the lyrics along melody.

There are splash of warm applause after we finished, a lady asked me a question which surprised me, "I played French Horn in a jazz band in Navy in 1986" she has a shock of white hair, her eyes suddenly twenty gain, "Do you know Moonlight Serenade? " I heard this piece but I  didn't play it,  she told me she it was her favorite peace to play, "I will try to find it" I told her, "I will show you what I find and try play it to you when I came to see you next time." I promise to her when I leave.

     We left with our phone numbers scrawled on sheet music and we promised that we will return. Eventually, we will find a date and time to come back periodically,  we will bring our instruments and new pieces, and they will bring their stories to share with us, tales of big bands, blue jazz in clandestine piano bars, and love letters folded into trumpet case at their ages. Our chamber live concert isn't perfect, I know I messed up some notes, my horn high notes crack sometimes, not as good as I practice, but, it doesn't matter at all.  They call us "the kids", just like my grandpa and grandma, in these golden hours, we are just simply keepers of a pact, play until the past feels the present, and every wrong note bends into a bridge. We love to do this.