Cherry blossom canopy

You can't discern whether she is happy to be there or not. The lilting piano against heavy strings gives away little beyond that this moment is fleeting and it hurts her. You have no idea if the pain is bittersweet or sharp.

The song corresponds with the charm that matches the sticker that marks the spot on the map that was my home. Many charms of varying shapes and designs were packed into the boxes, but the umbrella rattled out of my box and into my palm as I sat on a bench by the fountain on a Tuesday.

The umbrella fused an otherwise chance series of coincidences into a chain between a musician and a listener. It established her wistful song as my Washington theme. An uncertain heroine trying to announce her presence in a place she was subconsciously preparing to leave.

I was here...

I pulled on the umbrella as it threatened to snap away in a windgust. We were soaked, the umbrella was doing us no good, but I was determined not to lose my grip on the purple handle. I was being dragged by the wind down the street into Georgetown.

The surreal nature of the afternoon had already prompted fits of laughter, and they resumed as we sought temporary sanctuary in a corner bookstore.

"That was her bus."
"No, it wasn't. The duffel bags didn't look anything like what she would have. More like a soccer team."
"I didn't mean it was actually her. But it would be funny to pretend."
"What if it was?"
"But it wasn't. Soccer team."
"Right."
"But it would be hysterical."
"Why would a soccer team stay at the Four Seasons?"

We laughed and ran back into the rain for another walkby. I left the umbrella dangling from my wrist.

Gaslights glow in the street (flickering past); Twilight held us in her palm as we walked along...

The applause continued as she began the next song, and I happily brushed a strand of hair from my face as I looked about the arena. A hand grabbed at my shoulder.

"Listen!"

I tilted my head and took in the delicate notes for a moment before my eyes widened in understanding. I drew a quick intake of breath and stared at the auburn head six rows in front of me.

I knew I was being watched, and tried to keep my cheeks from burning. But the music was soaring and then she was singing it and I wanted to sing along but she sounded so beautiful and my throat suddenly felt so tight -

And the tears were falling before I had an opportunity to hold them back. I spent the next four minutes stinging, watching a blurry swirl of light and red hair as the composer of my theme performed it live for the first time.

I was here...