upon returning home from Carnegie Hall

The pianist thanked the audience and then bowed, waist down with his hands fanned out on his thighs. A display for all to see his manicured, steady hands which had entertained us for hours.

*

At intermission, I wove my way back to my seat and, out of necessity, practically jeteed across the standing gentleman and seated older lady in the seats just before mine.

"You move like a ballerina!"
I danced for fourteen years, but that was a long time ago.
"And such a nice figure. Did you notice, Ben?"
I thought it and you said it!

*

the older couple beside us churlishly grumbled when audience members in the balcony clapped before the end of the entire piece. themselves, they shouted and cried "bravo" after each piece was over. the pianist was French and they wanted him to hear them praising him in his language.

*

the pianist performed three encores. A nocturne by Chopin, a piece by a late friend whose name I didn't catch, and Debussy's Clair de Lune. At the opening keys, I had to keep myself from crying. I love this piece and had never imagined I'd see it performed live in Carnegie Hall. The surprise of it, to be caught off guard; it was a moment that literally takes your breath away because you wonder (like everyone else) if the air has been taken out of the room. The pitch is so perfect.

*

A peevish former friend once snapped at me for eagerly telling her the contents of the set list at a Magnetic Fields concert which had yet to begin.

"There are few surprises in life," she sniffed as she reasoned barking at me a minute earlier.

Maybe there are few surprises in life. Maybe that's why I live in New York. To be sure that I find myself pleasantly surprised on a frequent basis.