Our little casita is quiet minus traffic humming from the I-5 and music streaming from the dark kitchen. Tonight was a good one: full kitchen, full deck, laughter and the melding of different friends. But last night was straight magic.
Like the incandescent ones usually are, it was a spur-of-the-moment night without expectations. Davis had mentioned wanting to see Iron & Wine play at Humphrey's as an early birthday celebration. A little context: Iron & Wine was THE band for me back in high school. His music colors that entire era in my memory, but I hadn't given it a good listen in years. When we were lucky enough to find a kayak to borrow the day of the show, there was no excuse not to go. And so we grabbed California burritos and slid off into the water toward the sound of an acoustic guitar and a Southern drawl.
For the next few hours, we joined the flotilla of rafts anchored outside Humphrey's. I gotta say, after all this time Iron & Wine was still stunning. Especially on the water, under the stars, beneath a supermoon. We floated and looked up at palms, blue stage lights, and that giant orb. It felt like we could have been anywhere. When we paddled back, the moon had pulled the tide so high that we had to lay down to slip under the bridges lowered across the harbor.
As I hold routine in one hand and the ever-elusive contentment in the other, moments like this anchor me (no nautical pun intended). Last night was a rock solid reminders of the magnitude of life right here, exactly now.