They look like relatives, young adults with slight figures, penetrating brown eyes, dark hair, a certain presence about them. They browse engagingly, as people love to do here at the Jewel.
He's recovering from a demanding school career.
I ask what he does. Music, he says, opera.
There are many people around here who enjoy opera. Maybe you'd sing here some time.
I could sing for you, he humbly offers.
There and then, or here and now, his beautiful round face disappears into another world. His eyes close. In a moment, with changed countenance, his eyes and voice open, singing to me, and me alone. Italian opera. Mozart. I can hardly breathe. My eyes never leave him, though he is in a private world right now. His friend stands nearby, transfixed as if she's never heard him before. When he's finished, Julia walks the length of the store from her studio, hands clasped over her heart. I'm bowing. He's glowing.
Really, too personal a moment to share.
Yet, such things happen with me all the time.
On a Monday.
Sharon
Sharon
What a gift! YOU, I mean. But also the young man, the singing of opera, the scene of rapt attention, Julia, the ambiance of the Joyful Jewel. This is SUCH wonderful writing that captures a special moment. Deepest thank you, Sharon, for sharing it!
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