Rhubarb

The photo I didn't take: Slow-Dancing on the Esplanade

Our ukulele band plays on Sunday morning by the beach. There are about 30 of us on the small bandstand, Monterey Bay shines on the left, the air is cool and clear, the sounds of waves and seagulls punctuate our songs. Spectators come and go, kids whirl in mad circles, strangers laugh and hold up their cell cameras. I see an old couple bring two folding chairs to a place in the shade; they carefully open them up and sit side-by-side, bundled up in scarves and heavy jackets. I glance at them from time to time: they don't speak, don't applaud, they just sit there primly in the morning light. We are in the middle of Elvis Presley's "I Can't Help Falling in Love With You" when I look up again, and they are dancing, holding each other as tight as teenagers, her arms around his neck, swaying slowly. When I look again, they are gone. The photo is in black and white.