to serve. I produced the gratuity from the pocket in my shorts and closed the door behind them.
I impatiently poured myself a cup of coffee, added the cream, and sat back to enjoy the aroma and the warmth of it. I drank it slowly while I prepared my bagel with lox and cream cheese.
As I chewed my bagel, I looked for the CD player. Music, added to that perfect setting of large sky and open ocean, could only enhance the ambiance. I didn’t see the CD player anywhere on the balcony; I went inside the stateroom looking for it – not there either.
When I came back to the balcony, Michael was sitting at the table; he plugged in the little CD player and was rooting through the music. Oh, company.
“Good morning,” I greeted him with true enthusiasm.
“Hungry? Want breakfast?”
“Good morning; No, I already ate, I just brought the music back.” He said.
“Do you mind if I choose?”
It was nice to have my own personal DJ. Our CDs mixed together created a very cool collection. We had no duplicates.
“Please,” I replied with a mouthful of bagel. I was curious to see what would be his first selection of the day. As I sat down at the table to continue eating my breakfast and discovered that I wasn’t really hungry anymore but I was a bit embarrassed that I had ordered so much food. I picked at it while I drank more coffee.
Michael had chosen the Steve Miller Band; the first song up was “Dance, Dance, Dance.” That song is fun and upbeat, hopeful.
‘My grandpa, he’s 95
And he keeps on dancin’
He’s still alive
My grandma, she’s 92
She loves to dance
And sing some, too
I don’t know
But I’ve been told
If you keep on dancing
You’ll never grow old…
Come on darling
Put a pretty dress on
We’re gonna go out tonight
Dance, dance, dance
Dance, dance, dance
Dance, dance, dance
All night long…’
Both Michael and I had our heads back and our faces raised to meet the sunshine. Eyes closed for protection, we sat in absolute peace; we let the music resonate in our minds and hearts. Whether deliberate or not, I couldn’t say, but, our breathing was in time, coordinated, like sleeping Siamese twins, slow, even, and in unison. That synchronicity supported the calm.
‘“I’m a hard working man
I’m a son of a gun
I’ve been working all week in the noon day sun
The wood’s in the kitchen
And the cow’s in the barn
I’m all cleaned up and my chores are all done
Take my hand, come along
Let’s go out and have some fun…’
Like on cue, two very big sighs in chorus interrupted the air around the music as Michael and I each inhaled deeply and exhaled. He chuckled a small snort of a laugh at the same time that I snickered. Could our moods be so exact, like the breathing, the peace? What could possibly be better than that, I questioned? And then I knew as Michael reached his pinkie finger across the few inches that separated us and hooked it around mine. It seemed a very small thing but that gesture was the connection and made everything perfect. I instantly stored the memory away for a more thorough examination sometime in the future, alone. Being there, on that balcony with the weather restful, listening to music, having a connection was happening and I didn’t want to miss the tiniest little bit of it. They were all precious moments to me. Moments of perfection were all we could ever ask from life anyway. ’Come on darling put a pretty dress on We’re gonna go out tonight Dance, dance, dance Dance, dance, dance Dance, dance, dance All night long’ We listened to every song on that CD. We didn’t move but only a couple times: once when he got water from his stateroom for us; after he took up his position in the chair next to mine, he re-hooked our pinkie fingers; and when I got the sunscreen, put it on my face, neck, arms, legs, feet, and hands. Michael did the same, took off his shirt and handed me the sunscreen. I was glad because I had too much lotion on my hands and it wasn’t a repugnant task to give his back protection. Of course, everyone knows that when you do a favor like that for a friend, you do get a modicum of tolerance when you address areas that were already marked as taboo. Yeah, I’m talking about the feet. I was discrete and sneaky but the feet got their own attention and were much protected from the sun when I finished with them. I took some punishment when he jerked and kicked around but I got the job done.
When things were calm again, we were still, like two sun worshipers. I was thinking that I’d better watch the time, not fall asleep, and move into the shade when the CD ended. I was acutely aware when Michael hooked our fingers together again. That action was so definite; it completed our unique connection as though we were part of a two person circuit.
Michael laughed when I couldn’t keep my mouth shut during “Fly Like an Eagle and again during “Abracadabra.” After that I tried harder to remember and respect others in the vicinity. Remember I said I was good at listening? That offered me some practice in self-control and as an added benefit, strengthened my listening skills. It’s all good!
The last song on the album was ‘Swing Town’.
‘Ooo oooohhhh
Ooo oooohhhh
Come on and dance, come on and dance
Let’s make some romance
You know the night is fallin’
And the music’s callin’
And we’ve got to get down to Swingtown
We’ve been workin’ so hard
We’ve been workin’ so hard
Come on baby
Come on baby let’s dance
Come on, come on, come on
Come on, come on, come on
Come on, come on, come on
Ooo oooohhhh
Ooo oooohhhh
Come on and dance, come on and dance
We may not get another chance
You know the night is fallin’
And the music’s callin’
