This is my mother’s brother, Leon Smith.

Portland, 1988.

Smoke in the air. Boots on sticky floors.

His band played Willie Nelson songs, and they played them like they meant them.

I wish there were more videos.

I wish I could step back into those rooms for just one night and feel the sound hit my chest.

But this one clip feels like a small miracle.

A window.

Proof that it all really happened.