In Concert

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Tuesday night, I tell her we're going to go to a concert in the park and she immediately runs to her room.  Lipstick.  Bracelet.  Necklace.  Clip-on earrings.  Packs a purse.  Probably would have painted her nails if there had been time.

We walk to the lake, spread our blanket on the grass, and she is gone - chasing friends, getting her face painted, dancing in front of the band, laughing.  She is still six.  Her ears are still un-pierced, this last month before her seventh birthday.  She stands, looking, smiling, the sun and her sister just behind her.

*****

Wednesday night, I tell her I'm going to a concert with my friends and she immediately runs to my room.  "What dress are you going to wear?  What food are you making?"  Blue maxi-dress.  Figs.  Goat cheese.  Probably would have made caramels if there had been time.

I kiss her good-bye, drive to the gardens, plunk a chair down on the grass and I am there - drinking wine, people-watching, talking, listening to Sara Barielles sing, dancing under the stars, laughing.  I am still thirty-three, this last month before my birthday.  I sit, looking, smiling, the stars and the crickets just behind me.