Taos Sunday Nights

Colored lights strung along the adobe house twinkle. A smokey bonfire sputters and roars. 3 guitars strum 3 chords repeatedly. Hand drums and rattles find the beat. Hash and weed pass from hand to hand. Improvised melodies and random lyrics sputter into the microphone. I watch. I sing. I don't smoke. I reach for the soft grey and white cat with the little pink nose. He lets me hold him and I dig deep into his fur, getting rid of the winter coat. He purrs. He runs away and dashes up a tree. I walk to the makeshift table and spoon out some potato salad.

A wavy-haired Russian painter in a red bandanna spins and struts with the music. He invites us all to his gallery opening. The man tending the bonfire laughs out loud at an inside joke only he understands. I feel happy. Community, finally?