Jazz Music

November 25, 2011
By MeganS. GOLD, Indianapolis, Indiana
MeganS. GOLD, Indianapolis, Indiana
12 articles 0 photos 6 comments

We arrived at Jazz Fest close to noon, when the sun was high and dancing across our shoulders, bringing Seth and my spirits with it. As we strolled into the venue, our hands brushed together. Seth did not jerk his away, but gave me a sly smile out of the corner of his mouth. We decided to meander our way around, pausing to look at whatever caught our fancy. There were tents, with different musicians in each one. A jazz singer who evoked feelings of a small restaurant in New Orleans with the doors flung open to welcome in passerby crooned in one tent, inviting us in. We paused for a minute or two, and then followed the smell of something delicious in the air to the food area. We tried in vain to decide if we wanted to eat now or later, and decided that we would wait, for we wanted to hear some music.

Jazz music wafted through the air; Seth gently squeezed my hand, and I looked at him and smiled. The sun fell on our shoulders, and a gentle breeze ruffled his short black hair. The music made beautiful background music, as did the gentle murmur and hum of people talking about the musicians. There was a grand round of applause when the jazz singer finished a brilliant improvisation piece. She gazed out meaningfully into the audience, and began a slower ballad. The music was like an old tee-shirt, smooth and comforting. It seemed to embrace you, to wrap around you and comfort you. It was a comforting sort of day, I believe. Seth’s hand gently held mine. His hand that was so good at playing fast furious scales on saxophone, the hand that gently held kittens at his work, the hand that held mine like I was a fragile baby bird. He absentmindedly gazed out towards the canal, and stroked my hand with his thumb.

Laying in the sunlight for a few hours makes one hungry after a bit, and when our stomachs began to growl loud enough to hear them, we decided to satisfy them. We strolled back to the food tent, and the different smells drifted through the air. We could smell Cajun food simmering in a pot, promising to be tender and juicy. We could also smell the spice of Indian food, which smelled delightful. Seth and I walked over to the Indian man selling food, and the smell intensified. You could smell multiple scents mixing together; the turmeric paired with cumin to create a scent that assured to be a satisfying and spicy lunch.

The author's comments:
This was an actual day that I had. Things between us didn't work out, but it still made for a good story.

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