First, the silence.
Shortly, the murmur of a breeze full of good omens.
Scrub hands and arms.
Then the rattle of the drops.
Snap of fingers
A drizzle, which in seconds turned into a downpour.
Clapping and more frequent clicking.
Finally, a storm with thunder and lightning.
Click of heels on the wood of the auditorium.
I remained very still, letting myself be drenched by that sweet water.
They call it body percussion. The perfect storm.
Later, a cascade of coral voices, words of love.
Soaked to the marrow with a strange fullness, I closed my eyes and let myself be caressed by those powerful female voices, powerful and sonorous; noble, honest. Like each one of those women from the Westwinds Women’s Choir from my city of Calgary.
The piece, All Together we are Love (*), by Katerina Gimón.
The director marked with a gesture of her hand, the sublime ending.
The sweet rain stopped.
I applauded them wildly, them and all of us, women, mothers, grandmothers, daughters.
Each one with that intimate song that we harbor deep inside:
(*) “I am a song for all hearts
And when our spirits rise
All together we are love”.
And speaking of wonderful women, Happy Mother’s Day!