Here's to the Soft, Quiet Parts of History
On a night when fog obscured the moonlight, I went to a concert. The music was top notch. The singing was out of this world. It was pure lush for the ears.
Every now and again, I looked around at the audience.
There were sneakered feet tapping. Hands clasped and held at heart-level. Wide open and earnest eyes.
All these faces looked so soft, so appreciative. As though their hearts had been drawn a little closer to the surface. It was a moment of grace on a summer evening.
It's easy to think history is only wars, downfalls, uprisings. But this is history, too. It might be too soft and quiet to make the big books. But just because fog obscures the moonlight doesn't mean the moonlight didn't happen.
So all the more reason for us to remember it and share it.
And if we share it enough, maybe it will become a larger part of history. Or at least our lives.
The concert ended. The appreciators walked out into the night. Fog was everywhere, any weather report could tell you that.
But what I want to tell you is that moonlight was there, too. Soft and quiet. But there.