The Free Little Concert Under the Bridge

There's a stone footbridge in my neighborhood with amazing acoustics underneath. On Sunday afternoons in summer, a cellist plays there. Nobody knows her name. She doesn't put out a tip jar.

People gather on the banks of the little creek to listen. Kids sit on the rocks and dangle their feet in the water. Dogs lie in the shade. A man brings a folding chair and a thermos of iced tea every week, and closes his eyes when she plays Bach.

The cello echoes off the stones and fills the whole valley with this deep, warm sound. Even the birds seem to stop and listen.

I asked her once why she plays there. She smiled and said, "The bridge likes it." I think the bridge does like it. I think we all do.