21.

Ireland

With so many terrible things in the world, it’s nice to know that there will be music just around the corner on Tuesday evenings.

I arrived at the Rincon Market before the strings. The music was all flute and harp with one guitar. But slowly, over the last forty minutes, the band has filled in one-by-one, chairs scooting back mid-song to expand the circle. Michael is not here yet, so the shouting has yet to begin, but the sound is filling out, growing and deepening with each new instrument. That great, full noise echoing off the brick walls.

The tables are full of people who come just to hear the music. Most of us are sitting by ourselves. Some people are on dates. All of us are swaying a little, even unconsciously, with the music--strangers coming together in moments of music, too many tapping toes to count.

Tonight Mom, in the midst of all this, with the fiddler practically leaping out of his seat as he plays, it’s hard to image how we wouldn’t pick Ireland.