I bought last minute tickets to attend the Rolling Stones concert with my daughter. It was butt hot but we got some pretty good seats so it was worth the sweat and discomfort.

The old guys put on a really good show and I’m glad we can say we saw them. Mick Jagger looks all his years but he is thin and had a full head of hair. He moves the way he always has.

Directly in front of us was a dad with his adult son. They had the same features in general but the son was a little taller with much longer, curly hair. The dad was a softer, fuller, older version of the son but the eyes were the same. I watched them each have a beer and dance like no one was watching. They were adorable. Clearly, the dad was the original fan but the son had definitely picked up where his dad had lead him. Watching them made me smile and I imagined the dad blowing on his old vinyl and gently placing it on the record player to introduce his son to the Stones. It worked. The son showed visible excitement each time a new song started. They would look at each other, share the moment, then start dancing all over again. I was absolutely mesmerized.

Meanwhile, my daughter and I enjoyed every bit of the concert, dancing and snapping pictures whenever Mick wandered onto the arm of the stage that brought him right in front of us. I sat down a couple of times but jumped up when I recognized the next great song. My husband is definitely the bigger Stones fan but he’s out of town so I filled in willingly and felt a thrill seeing them perform in front of my eyes.

At intermission, the son asked if we could take a picture of him and his dad and my heart burst. That was the moment that I realized I was having the exact same evening with my daughter and I almost forgot to appreciate it.

Because my daughter detests any type of sappy sentimentality (especially coming from me), I didn’t say anything but I spent the rest of the concert memorizing the feeling of dancing alongside my daughter while listening to a band I grew up with and is now appreciated by my child. Secretly, I watched her dance to songs of my childhood and marveled at the tradition solidly passed without fanfare. I will cherish the feeling for the rest of my life.