nine. i have nine fingers i can use right now. and, like chicken marsala, i am putting them on the keys and following the music. two weeks after breaking my wrists i was back playing and directing. who needs wrists anyway? who needs all ten fingers?
music can’t be stopped. it’s in the sound of the sunrise, the sound of your baby waking up, the sound of the clink of coffee cups. it’s humming as you ready for your day, singing along in the car, laughter shared over the phone. it’s in the hug you give your children as you drop them at school and the help you give your aging parents. it’s in dinner you prepare for loved ones, and in the volunteering you do for a local service organization. it’s in the walk in the woods, a stroll by the water’s edge. it’s in the quiet weary at the end of the evening, the sighs of a life-day done well. it’s in dreams and in hope. and it can’t be stopped.
we will always turn to the arts for comfort, for meaning, in joy and in sorrow. the music follows us; it surrounds us. it waits silently, ready to volume-up when necessary, hush-down when needed. it’s background. it’s foreground.
we need only put our fingers on the keys.
CHICKEN MARSALA ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood