When you have four children, three of which currently take piano lessons and one who thinks she does, you hear a lot of "music." Some of it is beautiful, some will be beautiful - eventually and some...well, let's just say that of it I just pray is over quickly. In hearing so many pieces, sometimes they all blend (or should I say blur) together into a homogeneous unipiece. In my busyness I fail to really listen, appreciate and enjoy the blessings my children give me on a daily basis through their music. They play, plunk, cry and, on occasion, I have even heard something I could only describe as a deep, throaty, primitive-type growl during practice sessions. What can I say, frustration doesn't always bring out the best in us. I stopped to think how eerily quiet my house would be without it. It sounds ethereally peaceful. I long for it, wish for it, even pray for it. Then, on the rare occasion that I actually get to experience the quietness I so long for, I find myself missing for, searching for, dare I say, even longing for the chaos burgeoning state I am so accustomed to?
Shhh...don't tell my kids. I told them I need some peace and quiet, whatever that really is.
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