15 Things

...I found in Rachmaninoff's 2nd Symphony this evening:

1. Tears of joy in the listening

2. Memories of myself sprawled on the floor, volume high, candles lit, letting the music wash over me, healing me, in the months post separation

3. from my band director husband with whom I had shared so much music, literally and figuratively

4. remembering Sundays at home on Burch Creek Drive where it was nothing but classical music on the stereo, my band director dad's passion for music spilling into the family. Stravinsky, Strauss, Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Webern, Shostakovich, Chopin, they all were members of our family

5. realizing that I haven't been able to listen to Strauss's Don Quixote since his death. Wondering if it's time to give it a try

6. yearning to be connected to music again having not played my clarinet longer than I haven't played the piano

7. remembering the promise I made my band director Grandpa Max on his death bed that I would play the clarinet that he passed down to me

8. feeling unworthy of his gift, knowing that music would find its way back into my life sometime, somehow, but not as of yet, and wondering if it's time to allow it re-entry

9. while at the same time feeling overwhelmed with the commitments I already have but knowing deep down in my heart of hearts that music is a part of my soul how much longer can I keep ignoring its powerful call?

10. thinking how much it would rejuvenate me to embrace it again,

11. and as Mark  joins me on the couch with two glasses of Clos du Bois merlot, the fire in front of us, the music all around us

12. my all-or-nothing self realizes that even just the listening of it is a powerful tether,

13. though it wouldn't hurt to play a little Debussy on the piano every now and then

14. and as the evening progresses, as we add Rachmaninoff's 2nd Piano Concerto and Variations on a Theme of Paganini to the program, refilling the glasses of wine,

15. I drink it all in like a thirsty deserter who has stumbled upon a bountiful oasis, phrase by phrase, swallow by swallow, and breath by everlasting breath.

Comments

[Anabelle O'Malley]

I never knew music was so deeply a part of your life. I hope you find yourself doing what you love and enjoying it to the fullest.

[Cindy Singleton]

Interesting, I was thinking just recently about your dad's passion for music. As I was dusting my piano the other day, I thought of how long it had been since I'd sat down to play it, and what a good New Year's Resolution it would be to make time for playing it a few minutes now and then. I always have the duet book (a copy of the old one my dad had from his youth) sitting there like a decoration, but also as a constant reminder of the joy that book brought to my childhood, and that of my own children. Thank you for your post and the extra motivation I need to make room in my life for creating music!

[Ms. Maxwell]

That's it. I'm getting my piano tuned and you're coming over. Period. These keys need your talent!

[susan opel]

I can totally relate! There is nothing like singing Bach with a phenomenal choir and a majestic organ.

[Kristin Edvalson Wardle]

Funny, but when I think of you, I think of music. I didn't know that was a part of yourself you had put on a shelf. Not often enough, I get to sit down at grandma's piano and pretend that I play as well as I used to. While my fingers don't always go exactly where they are supposed to, it still takes me to a place that is only mine. When I hear my daughter's fingers trying to figure it out, I have to smile and remember my mom's willingness to let me practice instead of setting the table.