"Almost" Smiles
🗓️ August 16, 2024
⏰ Read Time: 4 min
The little fellas danced around like popcorn in a pan — older sisters swaying younger brothers like rag dolls, toddlers vibrating in a way only toddlers can. The smiles were contagious, and I caught myself grinning ear to ear more often than not. The whole evening, the good folks who patronize Line Creek Brewery sent their kids up with dollars and dimes to fill my guitar case. Each interaction was the same, but never monotonous. It went like this: a parent would rifle through purse or pocket, amazed that they found any physical currency, likely change that was meant to be deposited months ago. They would bend down low, one hand remaining on a stroller for two way support, and whisper to their kid, pointing with gestured head or hidden finger to where my guitar case sat empty and open. The kid would normally hold the money in both hands and, with feet cemented to the floor, stare at the bill like Indiana Jones reading a scroll, face illuminated with the glow of the magic inside this coveted cloth. I like to think that for a moment, their entire world is at crisis: “Now’s my chance,” I imagine they say to themselves, “Mom has slipped up and left me, ME, in charge of the family loot. What ignorance! I’ll show her. I’ll start a new life…” Inevitably, saner heads prevail. The kid walks shyly (insert: angrily, with tears, screaming, really happy, or really confused) up to the case and lays the money down like you might lay a baby bird back in its nest after it falls out. They stare at it a moment. Again, I assume they’re thinking “last chance, buddy, grab it and run.” But again, saner heads. The next moment is my favorite.
They look at me in slow motion. I don’t know why it’s in slow motion, but it always is — they bring their head up and let their eyes be the last things that rise up to meet mine, like thespians practicing perfect timing. They never say anything, but I can almost hear what they’re thinking. “Did you see that? Did you see what I just DID?” I’m almost always mid-song when they do this, but still — I stop singing, crouch down to their eye level, and let them know that they are so kind, and that I so appreciate their being generous, and that they have really blessed me.
Every time, they almost smile — hear it? Almost smile. It’s never a big momentous thing, a life changing moment of growth, or a moment of grand self importance for them, like I might expect it to be. They simply stare with curious eyes and give an “almost” smile, as if to say, “I figured you could use this.”
The kid trots away. Mom and Dad meet them, halfway out the door by then — me a little richer for the gain, they a little happier for the loss. They heap good jobs and attaboys on their son or daughter with abandon, and then, never again think of the exchange — at least until the next singer shows up on kids night.
I continued singing, stopping to repeat the pageantry from time to time, nodding at generous adults who act out the same storyline in a different way. All the while wondering — what are those little faces seeing in mine that make them look so intently? Is it the wonder of the big scary man with a voice that’s too loud up on a tall stage? Or is it the expectation of what I might turn into when touched by their act of kindness? Perhaps it has nothing to do with me. Maybe it’s just a deep thirst for knowledge, the birthright of all kids. And for a moment, however short or inconsequential, I am the placeholder for their curiosity. Yet in their instinctive desire to understand the un-understandable, they place on me a great crown of importance, a feeling of significance and honor during a gig which might otherwise be transactional and cold.
As the night closed, I let my mind sift through this out of control, way-too-deep metaphor while I forgot lyrics, missed chords, and generally made a bungle of the final few songs. I counted up the tips, hoping I made enough to cover the gas for the trip home with a little left over to keep the “lights on” long enough to strike gold some other day. Between wrapping up cables and packing up bags, I looked around at all these crowns the kids had given me, and I wondered what I could give people if I just opened my eyes every once in a while, saw life with the same rich curiosity, and gave out a few more “almost” smiles.
