Music has always been a big piece of who I am. I’ve always felt as if it’s a part of me, like tasting or breathing. From the time I was young, when I would sit in my little chair listening to a song over and over again on my record player until I knew all it’s secrets, I’ve felt it’s power. Music is my companion and confidant.
It’s my heart when I don’t know how to expose my own.
While driving to the store the other day, a song I’ve never heard before came on the radio. From the first notes of the guitar, it pulled me in. As I listened to the words, I felt the tears threatening.
She was singing about me; Singing the words I would have written if I could have found them.
Words about how I felt growing up and still feel now, words of sorrow for the pieces of himself my son must leave behind in order to be considered a man.
Words, which, quite simply, tell the story of us all, before we’re told who we’re suppose to be.
There was no need to listen to this song over and over again; It’s secrets have always been kept in this boy’s heart.
On The Rocks 