Memory lane
There are four beautiful little girls selling lemonade for 10 cents a glass on the sidewalk next door. All varying shades of blonde, with green and blue eyes and sweet little turned up noses. It's a beautiful, sunny day here, and watching them whisper amongst themselves in anticipation as cars drive down the street reminds me of my own childhood ... how I enjoyed crafting the perfect lemonade stand sign, sitting in the sun with nothing but time on my hands, counting up my newly acquired coins. Those were the days when my father would play James Taylor, Bread, and Carole King on the weekends and my family would sit together after dinner and listen to music. My dad had a great love for classical music also, and I would don my ballerina slippers and dance around the living room while he listened to piano concertos and symphonies. At our house, music was something to be savored, and I remember spending hour upon hour camped out on the floor, laying on my stomach with my head resting on my hands and a pair of huge, bulky headphones strapped around my ears.The intense connection I have with music began early, and I'm thankful that my father instilled the love of music in me. I love music that makes me happy, music that makes me think, music that is constructed well, music that has passion, anger, fire, even music that makes me sad. I still remember the first time a song made me cry ... I think I was seven, and it was James Taylor's "Fire and Rain." I still love that song, and it still has an emotional affect on me ... though not so much now because of the lyrics, but because it reminds me of my father, and how much I miss him. But hearing it is also like an old friend, somebody that's been there all along. There are so many songs that are like that for me, and I know as time goes on there will be many more to accompany me along the way.So this one's for you, dad. Music is one of the best gifts you ever gave me.
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Comments (22)
Lovely post.
: = )