I walked through Boston’s Public Garden on Friday on my way to a lunchtime meeting in Cambridge at MIT.
I hardly noticed the stunningly beautiful fall day. Through most of my stroll through the garden, I was silently lecturing someone who had pissed me off that morning.
A man playing an erhu snapped me out of it. The sound of that Chinese string instrument is haunting, almost agitating, yet eerily beautiful. And the sound beckoned me back — back to the moment, back to the wondrous day that it was.
I had never seen this musician before — not anyone playing the erhu — in nearly two decades of walking this path.
I passed through the Public Garden again on my way back from Cambridge, this time silently lecturing someone who had pissed me off the day before.
Until I heard that sounds again.
How tempting the catnip. How wonderfully, strangely, reliably we’re beckoned back . . .