He stood and put a hand on my arm to stop me. “Not something by a dead composer who never knew this land,” he said, “let your spirit be free and...play what is in your heart, not your head.”It had been a long time since I had composed anything, but I put my violin to my shoulder, closed my eyes and without thinking began to play. I don't know what force possessed me, but melodies poured forth from my bow — wistful melodies full of the colour and majesty of the hills; the music of generations of. "I poured our whiskeys, and while we enjoyed the sweet coffee and the whisky, I told her about my meeting with Mr. Peterson, my extended authority and the travel arrangement."But that's wonderful, darling. They are finally beginning to appreciate you!" She jumped out of her chair and knelt in front of me, grabbed my face between her hands and kissed me. "Congratulations!" Thank you. And now for the present. It's for you, but it is also kind of a celebration gift to myself."I opened the little. I love who you are, and I love learning about you. I love that we seem to be able to talk so freely and openly, about anything. About how lousy our marriages are. About work. About what it was like 30 years ago, and we can be honest about how we felt or didn’t feel back then. Or even now.”“Now?”“Yes,” he responded. “We’ve never shared a certain word. And I’m not sure we should, or could.”“It’s only been a week. We’d be crazy to talk about feelings like that,” she said.“Crazier than sharing how. " I sat back down and he joined us. I finished my drink and told them that I needed to hurry home, that Glenda would be waiting dinner for me.I was one confused puppy as I drove home. Marge obviously thought Glenda ran with the black crowd because of the size thing and that there was probably some truth to it was confirmed — at least in my mind- by the glance that her husband gave my crotch as if somehow he could judge my size. Size or no, one thing was clear to me by the time I got home that.
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