After dancing with audience members, Peter returned to our small bandstand and latched onto my right side, shoulder to shoulder with me as the tempo picked up in the last section. His hip bumped mine once, twice, and I realized he was trying to get me to dance with him in an odd gyrating way. When I caught on, he cheered, missing a few notes of the song in his enthusiasm, but the audience loved it, clapping and cheering along. The adrenaline of a live audience was infectious, hyping up my pulse, bringing out a smile despite the heat and the silly awkward dance. I loved it, but I always forgot how much I loved it until I actually got up on stage and played those first few notes. Nothing in the world quite equaled the joy of performing music. We dove into the final bars and ended with a solid, synchronized one-two. Cheers and applause spattered around us, the conga line fell apart, and we moved off the stage after bows and curtsies (both from Peter).