He plays his guitar in a small room in the basement, cranking out songs from many genres, but always with precision. When we first met, he would sit on a stool in my kitchen in San Antonio and play on a cheap acoustic guitar that he bought down the road, while I cooked for the two of us. I thought it was the most romantic thing ever.

It wasn’t until much later in our relationship when I realized what an amazing guitarist he was, but he was a closet musician who was very shy about his talent. When we moved to Colorado he began to play with local bands and found a groove that mixed camaraderie with his love of music.

Due to Covid, it’s been a long time since he’s played at a venue where he and his bandmates whipped an audience into a fun dancing frenzy, March 5th of last year to be exact. I still love hearing him play in our basement while I’m cooking up in our kitchen, so on this morning when he came walking upstairs with his guitar still strapped across his chest and then stood in the kitchen eating a plate of Chai Pancakes, I thought this was a pretty good start to our day.