As I walked to the band shell tonight, Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds was playing. Low and behold, I look on stage and my friend is playing an instrument to make the bird sounds. This song was special to me because after a trying time a few months ago, I went to my car, turned on the ignition, and this song was playing to tell me that “everything’s gonna be alright.”

These two juxtapositions warmed my heart, one from the past, now a fresh, fun memory to a new start. The band was great. “They’re probably the best band we’ve had so far,” said a friend. I wholeheartedly agreed. When the band asked for audience members to come up on stage to play percussion, I traded my rain maker for the tambourine. I have rhythm and I couldn’t wait to smack it to the beat. The band requested a conga line. There weren’t many takers. “They didn’t say anything about us not going out there,” I quick-wittedly quipped.

I egged on the audience by motioning to them to join our conga, still no one was budging. But I kept banging that tambourine. Before I knew it, the guitarist motioned to follow him and I quickly filed right behind him, headbanging while he strummed. We snaked into the crowd and I shouted, “You only have one life, dance like nobody’s watching!” I’ve learned that if you’re going to make a point, go all out or nothing at all.

So, as we snaked row to row, I shimmied in people’s bubble and smiles were contagious. By the end, there were 47 people in that conga line. Afterwards, a wonderful lady so touched came up to me and told me how much joy was put on people’s faces because of my positive energy. “Thank you,” her voice cracked. The storm clouds rolled in and I couldn’t help but ponder today’s gift.

So, as the rain tap dances on my windshield, dance like there’s no tomorrow, gently take in the sweet advice of three wise little birdies that reassure, “everything’s gonna be alright,” and bang that tambourine.