Scott flips the TV off. Max turns to look at me.
“Are you ready for some piano?” he asks.
“I’m going to write a post, pack, and go to bed,” I reply.
“Just a little song? Before you go to bed? To make you sleepy?” he begs.
I look at his face. I smile at his pleading eyes. “Sure. I would love it.”
He bounds from the chair and heads to the piano. He pulls the bench out in one quick motion.
Then he begins to play. Music starts to fill every corner of the house. I love that he can sit down and play. I’m envious that he can sit down and play. I can tell it’s Spring Break because music floats through the air throughout the day. During the school year, music doesn’t float as freely. Schedules and activities demand more time. But music is who he is. It is his DNA. He gets life energy from it. When he is gone, my house will be so quiet. I can’t think about that. I’m not going there.
Right now, I will enjoy my personal, private concerts. I will savour his music. I will appreciate his gift. I will be thankful for my son.