A perfect night

Rising seniors: pay attention to the small moments that show something meaningful about who you are as a person and what’s important to you.

I had one of those moments this past Saturday.

My summer friends and I had deemed it a “Pizza on the Beach” kind of night. We’d circle up our folding chairs, mix together some Moscow Mules, open a bottle or two of rosé. The breeze would be balmy, the sun would set, orange and pink. Our teenagers and young adult kids would complete the tableau. We’d toast each other and say, “It doesn’t get any better than this.” Perfect.

Except that night, the sky began to darken as the pizza was on its way. And “was that a rain drop?” And then another  and another. Sweatshirts pulled on, hoods covered heads. “Should we bail?”  “Check the radar.” More and more drops. Stay or go?

An electric blue speaker appeared out of  Sam’s backpack.  Olivia fiddled with her iPhone.

“Everyone up!”

Whoomp, There It Is,” blasted from the speaker.

A rain dance!

The drops fell harder and harder. “Pizza’s here!” John and Gordie ran to the steps at the bottom of the bluff to greet the delivery.

An hour later, “Arms wide open, baby!” Evan said to me as we Wobbled around the stack of nine empty pizza boxes.

My jaw throbbed from smiling too much.

But really, can you ever smile too much?

The sky dark, the rain stopped. The beach deserted.

Except for a circle of dancing fools.

“One more,” someone said.

How was it possible that every one of us—from twelve-year-old Dillon to a group of fifty-somethings—friends since we were teenagers ourselves—knew every single word to Donna Summer’s “Last Dance“?

It doesn’t get any better than that. 

 

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