A Few Extra Minutes

I had an appointment with a friend. I was early. I was early, but it wasn't a problem. It wasn't a problem, since John was playing Beethoven on the radio. John put on one piece and then another. And as the pieces played, I pulled into the parking lot and turned off the car.

I turned off the car but left the power on. And with the power on, I listened longer to the radio. I listened to the Beethoven that John was playing. I listened to the tympani rolling and the cellos carrying the melody for a while and the surprising bassoons and the oboes peaking out from behind the corners.

And although the oboes only peaked (as oboes are want to do), there was no mistaking them. There was not mistaking them, because the volume was turned up loud, and because it was Beethoven, and because of the melody, and because I was enjoying sitting there. I was enjoying listening to those oboes and the bassoons and the cellos and the rolling tympani. And as I listened, chills threatened to run down my spine and tears threatened to fill my eyes.

So I sat there in the parking lot for a few extra minutes with the radio volume turned up high until the Beethoven was done. Then I turned the volume down and turned the radio off. I got out of the car feeling remarkably fresh and walked across the parking lot and into the building to see my friend, now that I was no longer early.

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