I just oozed around the restaurant in a glob of love and happiness.
All my babies were there. All my grandbabies.
Boppy got to hold the baby for an hour, at least. Owen was incredibly sartorial.
Old, old, old friends playing the songs that make us weep and make our feet dance.
Music made, quite frankly, with and from love.
Holding people close, catching up, all of it, all of it.
Watching Jessie holding her baby and swaying to songs played by people I've known since long, long before she herself was born. Telling Owen about the musicians, introducing him to people, watching him get to know my brother. Seeing my children so beautiful.
A dream that comes once every year.
And this morning, my brother and Mr. Moon, getting a fire ready to smoke the venison. Onions and celery on the stove.
No matter what else happens, it's already been perfect.