The Evolution of Song

Over the past couple of weeks, I have had the immense pleasure of witnessing the most glorious unfolding of creativity in my oh-so-talented (songwriter-on-the-side) roommate . (My sincerest apology for not receiving preemptive permission to publish this). Several nights this week, I have come home to see her sweet face lit up in the front window of our house in the room where our new keyboard resides. She has graciously allowed me to sit at her feet as she tickles the ivories (or fiberglasses, in this case). Her repertoire is wide-ranging; her voice a melodic complement to each note played. I've watched as she's scribbled and erased her way through writing a brand new song. The result is both extremely melancholy and profoundly hope-filled. Almost as enjoyable as hearing her song has been learning about its inspiration. Each line has evolved from her own terrestrial experience. She has made quotidian life into poetry. She has filled our home with music, and I am most grateful to her song because it has inadvertently reawakened something in me.