Honey is the sweetest of all. It flows thick and slow, it's messy but it's still sweet. I guess most things in life are like honey.
The honey that comes from the mouths of choirs and the strings of harps and bells of beautiful brass instruments is music, but the music of life is that which I could listen to forever.
The sound rain makes when it hits my chimney, creating a soft melody that I could listen to while I lay on the couch for hours; leaves crumpling underneath my footsteps, giving way to my adventures and mischievous sins; the sound of the crickets that chirp and frogs that croak across the street from my bedroom window; the crackle a flame makes when it hits the sweet spot in the wood; her laughter, the sweet music of her laughter. All these things and more are the music of life.
If my life were a piece of music, it would be no march, it would be a sweet song in six-eight time, the kind that sets you on edge, but also on the verge of tears. There would be crescendos and decrescendos, dissonance and beautiful chords. There would be horn solos and passionate flute-clarinet melody, but also harsh cut-time trombone lines and staccato trumpet rips. Back and forth, back and forth. The composer himself is lost in the music, doesn't know how he got here. This is the music of my life.
But mostly, the music of my life consists of her beautiful harp voice and laughter, that which gives me uncontrollable happiness and warmth.
And with that, I am at ease with the music of my life, no matter how badly it hurts to play in the band, I will always stay, for her. Her beautiful contribution to the honey that makes up my life is what makes me a musician.
