69/365

Occasionally there's a night where for the whole evening I get the whole castle to myself. And since I'm a bloom-where-I'm-planted kinda girl, I make the most of it. It's so good for the soul to sit in silence--intermittently playing--and just listen. It's amazing how just one chord, or even one note, resonates and sounds so different at 11:00pm in the dark than it would at 11:00am in the daylight in a writing room.

Everything about music goes back to the piano for me. It started with a Casio keyboard underneath the tree on my 3rd Christmas. And through the years, the instrument has changed. An old upright missing keys to a less-old upright (that still lives in my parents living room and has NEVER been tuned to this day), to the brand new Yamaha baby grand at the Methodist Church, to the beat-up excuses for pianos in the practicing rooms at Belmont, to the keyboard I bought in college so i could play writers rounds. And now....thanks to my husband...my dream Yamaha in the living room. If it weren't for the piano, I would've never written songs. If I had never written songs, I would have never sung. If I had never sung, then, well...I don't know. But I guess that's the beauty of it. It all goes back to the keys. And tonight, I was reminded of how nice it was to just sit in my pj's, what felt like a million miles from Music Row, and just play for the love of it. I didn't try to be smart. I didn't try to be creative. I just played.

Now, don't get me wrong. I had my garage band and word document opened just in case God decided to bless me with something unique that was worth capturing. But, He didn't. Not tonight. But He will. Because He always has.

Speaking of playing, I ran upon the most lovely scene this afternoon on my run. (That sentence is very redundant.) Stereo cranked up, sitting inside the window sill facing the backyard. 1 little boy dancing on a trampoline. 2 boys playing baseball. The echo of the wooden bat as it cracks against the ball set to the soundtrack of laughter and birds chirping. I am in no way exaggerating when I say that I stopped and watched them through the trees about 20 yards away. If someone would've hit the ball in my direction, I would've been exposed as the neighborhood creeper. For about 2 seconds I was breathing in every bit of Spring that has sprung thus far. Then it set in that I miss my boys. Not my children, my brothers. Pretty soon I was thinking about how much I have yet to accomplish before I can completely checkout and move back to Kansas w/ my family. That got me thinking about the artist diet, so I starting running again. But, let me tell you something. For about 2 seconds, I convinced myself that my neighborhood was awesome. Which is it. But then I remembered that it will never be as awesome as Sterling. Nothing is.