Six Strings, Eighty-Eight Keys, and a Thousand Memories

I have a confession.

Sometimes I play the same song for hours.

Not because I'm trying to perfect it.

Because I'm trying to remember something.

Music has this strange ability to take you somewhere without asking permission.

A melody can bring back a person you haven't seen in years. A particular chord can remind you of a place you thought you'd forgotten.

Now imagine what that's like when you've actually been to those places.

I've heard music played in candlelit rooms, crowded taverns, elegant theatres, and tiny cafés where nobody cared whether the performer was famous.

I've listened to instruments that would eventually evolve into the ones we know today.

And I've discovered that people have always used music for the same reasons.

To celebrate.

To remember.

To fall in love.

To say things they can't quite put into words.

My guitar is usually the first thing I reach for when I need to think.

There's something comforting about the simplicity of it. Six strings, a familiar shape, and the freedom to create something that didn't exist five minutes ago.

The piano is different.

The piano is where I go when the feelings are too complicated for words.

Sometimes I sit down intending to play for ten minutes and discover that two hours have disappeared.

Which, considering my profession, is a slightly alarming way to describe losing track of time.

I've been working on a new song lately.

It's about someone I met a very long time ago.

Or possibly last week.

Time makes these things difficult.

I haven't decided whether I'll share it yet.

Some songs need to belong to you for a little while before you give them to the world.

But when it's ready, you'll hear it.

I promise.

Love, ♡