I was at a house party at my sisters' place for a friend of theirs, and the friend's husband was the D.J. This was the end to a day that had started at a low point and had been steadily improving.
A first, the music has mostly gone to waste, as the speakers on hand were more suited for an office desktop than a party. Then I returned with the D.J. to pick up his own, industrial strength (think rock concert) speakers. That changed everything. Once "Murder She Wrote" (an old reggae tune by Chaka Demus & Pliers) came on, everyone hit the dance floor. I even managed to pull my usually dance-shy wife on to the floor. As I sang along, she asked aloud to all how, I managed to know all the words.
I only smiled and told her it was an old tune. In my mind I drifted back to different summer. One of my youth. When I drove a burnt-sienna, 1978 Audi 5000, and a the tape deck had the same song playing. I remember driving at night past the front of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology on the way from work, with my hand tapping against the front of the sunroof. The stars were out, and the beat of the city filled the air.
Back at the party, I took my wife in my arms and pulled her closed and boggled to the swinging beat.
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