The chords reverberated into the night, drowning out the constant sound of the spring bugs. His golden curls shone as the light illuminated the room. The red plaid fedora sat askew on the back of his head, getting perilously close to falling off. His fingers moved gracefully around the frets, bending at just the right angle, applied with just the right amount of pressure. He was lost in his mind, while I was content to just watch. The chords were interrupted every now and then to allow time for a story, or an explanation, or a song he sings with his Kindergartners. They brought a smile to my face and a peacefulness to the evening.
He played his favorite song. The one whose words may or may not have been written for me.
Later as I drifted off to sleep, the lyrics ran through my head, inviting me to even try and say no to what was knocking at my door. Change, uncertainty, and adventure. I wasn't worried about what was to come, just at peace with what was happening.
I don't know where I'll end up or even if he will be there.
I just know the gypsy wind will blow warm some night, the night will be starlit, and the time will be right....