Nov 11

The Music

    The drumkit spilled out into the neighborhood as the people begon to gather, crowding around the garage entrance, nervously appraising the sliding door that threatened to fall on heads at any moment. Caleb held nothing back as he wailed on the drumkit. He had already broken two sticks tonight, at the expense of our eardrums. The familiar pop was heard as the bass was plugged in, and our old shaggy dog jolted awake and lazily thumped his tail.

    The crowd was bigger on this night, and we knew it was about to be our biggest turnout yet. The light had begun to turn dusty and fade, and we switched on the multitude of christmas lights that framed the entrance of the garage, and spread through the inside like the web of a drunk spider. At this, the audience let out a cheer and pressed in closer. Finn shot Caleb a glance which was returned with an enthusiastic fist pumping into the air.

      At 7, as the sun stretched down beyond the roofs of the houses, we took our places, and I counted off the opening number. The effect was instantaneous. People started dancing, singing along, clapping their hands as we played. And the music just kept coming. Late into the night, we hit the final number. The drums were thrashing and pounding and the bass was throbbing under the wail of my guitar. The people drank up every drop we put down as if they depended on it. The music ran deep in us that night.