The Music

We were 18 when we met. I was looking for a 6’4 Dr. He was 5’ 9 musician. It took some convincing. But what can I say? He could play Journey. Later he confessed he only learned Faithfully because chicks dug it. Whatever. It worked. I still make him play it sometimes.
In those early years, there were times we didn’t have enough money to pay the electric bill; but when the lights were out, piano and candlelight were free. He would play to cheer me up until the lights came back on. 28 years, 3 kids and two grandkids later, this place in our home represents so much more than you can see in this photo; so much more than I can describe to you in this short post. Music has been the center of our lives. There’s been a song for every celebration and tragedy, holiday and birthday. This is where he practiced for weddings and funerals. Sometimes he laughed while playing and sometimes he cried. There’s the everyday music, the music that pays bills, then there’s the music he plays just because he loves me. But there is also music when he’s too mad to speak, or just plain bored waiting for me to finish getting ready. He’s even documented silly and embarrassing moments in song, memorializing them forever, often to my mortification.
After all these years, I can tell how he’s feeling just by how his fingers hit the keys. This photo is for him, to say thank you for hearing the song in my heart and playing it back to me

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