Ode to Joy

This morning, head still swirling with all the weightier questions of life and providence and purpose, I stood waiting outside the elevator. As the car came to a stop and the doors opened, I heard the tail end of a familiar tune fade and a maintenance man slipped a harmonica in his backpocket. Grinning slyly at him, I stepped into the car, and hit my floor number as another staffer joined us. The doors closed and I hesitated.

"You're not going to serenade us?" I asked.

Both of my elevator companions turned to me quizzically; the older gentleman's mustache bristling into a knowing smile.

"Oh? Sure," he said as he drew out his instrument and gave it a blow.

"What was that tune you were playing before? The really familiar-sounding one?" I prodded. "And do you often play on the elevator?"

At this point the doors opened to the 2nd floor and our third-wheel staffer stepped off quickly, amused or annoyed, I couldn't say.

Turning to me, the older man explained, "I do like to play sometimes when I'm in the elevator by myself. What you heard me playing was "Ode to Joy"."

He blew a few more notes into his harmonica as the car came to a stop on my floor and the doors opened.

"Well," I said, stepping out out into the marble hallway,"It was beautiful. I wish I could stick around to hear more. Have a nice day."

And we went our separate ways. I didn't even catch his name. All I know is with a simple song and chance encounter, my furrowed brow turned to a smile and my heart felt 10 pounds lighter. And as I wander the Senate halls from now on, I carry the hope that I'll once more turn the corner or step into the elevator to find my charming little friend and his "Ode to Joy".