Canon in D <–(Click play, then read. That’s an order)
Amidst all of the baking and snarky blogging, I still have my moments. They are moments of stunning clarity that tighten my chest, constrict my throat, and nearly stop my heart. Split seconds where a completely ordinary task seems so much heavier, so much sadder. It’s as if a haze has suddenly been cast around the tiny things that seem to matter in our day-to-day lives, but somehow mean nothing in the grand scheme.
Sometimes, it’s a scent that triggers these bouts of emotion, but more often than not, it’s a tune. A few simple notes, strung together, played to make your heart feel things you never knew it could. It may be with a movie, with a man, or with a perfect summer day, but music makes us fall in love. And there’s nothing like an unexpected tune to bring a physically emotional memory flooding back to you.
They say that music can even help an Alzheimer’s patient to remember what they never could. In my case, music reminds me of moments I’ve chosen to forget.
When this song came on my Pandora station today, my heart leapt into my throat. I was no longer sitting on the red couch in my office, checking my email. I was in the back of a crowded church. My heart was burning and my eyes filled with tears as I let go of my sister’s hand and she made her way down the aisle. My father looked down at me, and I could see through my veil that he was smiling.
“Which doors do you want to take?” he asked with a chuckle, gesturing to the exit doors.
“These,” I said with confidence, pointing to the doors that led down the lantern-lined pews.
And just then, this very song ended. And so did life as I knew it.