Tonight, it’s been a 6 pack of Heineken. I’m laying in bed listening to a random playlist. Van Morrison comes on and I’m reminded of a memory.
Not terribly happily married to my first husband we left our small town to visit Memphis one February weekend. We walked Beale Street. We found an open door, alcohol and live music. One table up front was open. We realized after we sat down it was vacant because of the terrible winter draft flowing in through the front door. A few songs in, coats still on, alcohol in, and I had noticed but I was happy as a lark listening to a live band on Beale Street in Memphis, my husband leans over to me, my eyes still on the band, “Is it me or has the bass guitarist been staring at you since we walked in?”
He had been because I was watching him. That night I swear he played Tupelo Honey for me. And the memory still thrills me to this day.