off much deprived limelight

I have the option of closing my door and shutting out the mundane chorus that his newly modified amps are repeating. But I don't and neither do I let my favorites on iTunes drown his. It's a dull tone that tortures and even he admits to that. As I sit here in the study he designed in doodles on the many sheets of Ikea shopping lists, I realize that although I don't love this genre of music, I love this man who loves it.

I ask if he would put on another cd to save me from self-mutilation and he says no while frowning.
"It's a free cd. I'll spoil mine if I keep repeating them."
I plead, please?
"Church music, what. Good for you!"

That was donkey years ago and he still puts on this same cd to give his valves and amps a good workout. I would have thought the darn cd would have died or burned out or gotten spoiled by now. Church freebies are quality goods huh?! And so it continues on giving the 12 songs its share of airtime.

Each note I hear has "home" signed beautifully in cursive. As the music soaks in, I know that Lee Ritenour, Dave Koz and Peter White will always be special to me. Always.

Everytime, we brace ourselves through the eternity of church music which apparently is "suitable and wonderful for meditating" because its his only form of entertainment. One that he can see without having to adjust his glasses or seat. And one that will never let him down or alert him of an impending future. He doesn't show it but the helplessness is something I read amidst the thousands of things his eyes try to communicate.

. . . . .

The radio dials are read by the fingers and memory aids the rest.

Dawns are the hardest. When the orange lights lining the street go off altogether thinking the sun would lend its rays to illuminate the dark stairway. But its much too early. As such, it is only right to grapple the banister and repeat a count of eight for four consecutive times to find out if it is the last landing.

An action movie where every few scenes depict men putting their fight skills to the test and even with the tele volume balanced perfectly in the base, tone and mid, all else is silenced in the background by "Why? What happened?".

Or when all is silent and a head hang low in the corner with the blue armchair while all else laugh until their stomachs hurt.

. . . . .

How does one live with things like these?

minx wrote at10:06 PM
2 replies

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