| | It wasn’t the sun that was shining when I awoke. It was the cell phone screen. And the screen wasn’t just shining. I picked up the phone.
“Joel?! Wow! Uh...
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday dear Joel.
Happy birthday to you!”
On the third line my parents broke into a two part harmony through the rest of the song. Though the “Happy Birthday” song is not one of my favorite things, harmony is. It made it better.
Then we talked for a while: summarizing about my life (one of those things you do when you get older and need milestones to make years feel different), the church, my move to Jackson, and trying to beat unemployment, among other things.
Afterward, the house was quiet. The morning hours extended their residual dark by working up a thick grey cloud cover. Rumblings hummed in the distance. Thousands of mezzo-piano staccato intonations chanted together as the rain fell on hard and soft. Water sssssh’ed as passing cars mashed it down against the asphalt. Steam and scent permeate now as the coffee wraps up its pressured heat and filtration. Out the corners of the windows the greens look greener already. I reach for the creamer and think. The rain quickens.
I move from the oak table in the dim light. Steam eases its way up from the mug. A song has come to me, so I join Schumann to the chorus of earth and water and grey sky. As the simple, pristine fourth begins the song, “Traumerei” fills both the room and the thoughts. The real trick Schumann played on the musical world is that most every pianist can play Traumerei, but very few can actually play Traumerei. Even from a good pianist, the oft alone melody can seem rote, the chords, when they do come, had too much expectation riding on them to really resonate. My mind wanders away with the melody. I think Horowitz is one of the greatest pianists the world has known. This is no more true when he plays the Rach 3 as it is when he plays Traumerei. Just like Aunt Sharon. She could make the dullest of pieces shine like a diamond. As I reach the last line, I think, wishing I could play that last line like Horowitz did, with his whole heart in every note and chord. Subtlety. Longing. Vulnerability. Strength. Hope. It is all there. I wish I could play Traumerei like Horowitz did. Like Aunt Sharon could. But I am thankful for the moment.
Schumann’s song fades into the song of the earth. Its’ silence gives way to other voices, other expressions of subtlety. The earth is watered - even the parts of it we coated that cannot absorb this grace. It is still dim, the hallway fading into dark. Now the coffee is almost lukewarm. Today could be mistaken as a quiet day, but if you listen you actually find there are voices all around. Today is not a quiet day, but a soft-spoken day. Maybe it is more true to say that today is the sort of day that instead of it being quiet, it quiets you.
And today I am 25.
25. It is a new number to deal with. It is a year marker with different content, different connotation. But at 25, I am still me. Still me, just with a new category. I am glad that people aren’t categories. People might fall into them, but they aren’t defined by them.
The dimness and the rain continue, though the rumblings have given way. An inch of coffee remains, cooled. Thought has given way to simply being here, now.
Today is a good day.
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| | Posted 5/28/2008 3:53 PM - 113 Views - 10 eProps - 5 comments
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