Last night, we finally drove over the hill to the Quechee Green bandstand to enjoy the last of the free concerts for the season. It was a solo appearance by one of Vermont's getting-noticed musicians, Chad Hollister.
He was really good, singing all his own stuff (except for one song) and obviously very talented.
The floor show was a lively crowd of young kids, seven being the oldest, who were just flying around like dancing bees, their feet barely skimming the grass as they danced, ran, skipped and bestowed their exuberance on those who stayed in one place.
One of the most fun to watch was Chad's 5-year old daughter Riley. This little one has a pinch of the fairy in her, for sure. She careened around the bandstand at full speed, a rapturous smile on her face.
There were several other girls flitting through the twilight, dancing so unconsciously to the music and filled with such a brilliant innocence that it brought tears to my eyes. At that moment, I understood with my heart—not just my head—that that's what so many of us spend our adulthoods trying to recover: careening around at full speed with no thought but the present joyful moment.
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