The sound of a choir singing together brings to mind harmony, exaltation, a blissful sound.
It is uplifting and joyous. It can move us emotionally and with great power. What happens when the choir sings off key? We are startled by it. We are uncomfortable with it. We look forward to when it ends.
It’s funny how life never turns out how you envisioned it would as a child.
I am at an age where I recognize this, accept it, and can laugh at how this unpredictable world likes to keep me on my toes.
Growing up, I was not always so understanding of this unruly world.
Before I’d play golden music on my Fender guitar, I’d admire the stained wood and strings. Every day was the same: the moment I returned home from school, I sought an hour of solitude with my guitar. I’d grasp the fret-board, pulling it free from the magenta wall, right where the tuning mechanisms scratched my wall silver. My guitar chords always emitted a prismatic sound when I struck them against the grain with my pick before I sifted through the printed chords of my favorite songs and chose the one I’d play, sometimes over and over.
It was an evening in late September when I knew we were losing each other.
I knew we were forgetting. So I wrote. I wrote it all, I described every memory I had with him, laced with the most magical details. The nights we talked on the phone until sunrise, the secret promises we made in the drive-thru line, the summer days he carried me across the parking lot to get ice cream. I combed through my journal entries hoping I could find the moment — the moment it all started fading. As a hopeless romantic, a firm believer in fairytales and happy endings, I didn’t understand how the stars had become so scattered and desperately clung to the hope that I could put them back in line.
If you’ve ever swam, stood by, lived by, or even flown over an ocean once, you know that deep waters hold a certain divinity. There’s nothing quite like diving into cool ocean water in the early days of June. There’s nothing more lovely than immersing yourself in an underwater aquamarine world teeming with yellow, blue, green, and orange fish whose silences are only punctuated by soundless bubbles and the hush of waves washing in above the surface. And after hours or even minutes swimming through the salt water, you feel more clean, sane, and free than you did on land.
That’s why there’s nothing quite like swimming in open water.