And Then There was One
My rational mind knows that the earth rotates at a constant rate.
However, I can’t help but feel that it must be speeding up.
I imagine I’m 16 years in the past, sitting atop a large vinyl record spinning on a turntable. My young family in a tight circle of warm embrace in the center of the album playing the music of our lives. There is no daylight between us. The player’s going slowly and the harmonic sound is sweet and simple even with many pops and scratches as the early years roll by.
The pace imperceptibly quickens as the kids grow. Centrifugal force begins to pull us all outward. Our hands now firmly grasped yet we can easily stand together as we spin. The melody is more complex, but the smooth rhythm plays on.
The speed unrelentingly building and the outward forces, not unkindly, but without sympathy increase. They learn to drive, their independence blooms. The music becomes more improvisational like jazz with players going on rifts of their own, but still coming back to the melody.
And that’s where we are. Only Hannah having a first day of school and Jack going away in a few weeks.
It’s easy to see into the not too distant future that the speed of the turntable will get to the point where they fly off to be the center of their own album. It’s as it should be.
I hope the music we made always runs through them fondly as a familiar refrain as they create their own symphony.
I can’t wait to hear it.
Make It a Good Story 