Every Siren

There’s a reason I keep symphonic music in my car. Sometimes, the heart is so full that words don’t fit. The only penetration is music without the words.

I was overwhelmed. Healing from the car crash will take longer than I thought, and my back hurt. Thoughts of what I’ll miss raced. Then I went even further, a realm of imagination where I did not need to be. “Every teardrop was a waterfall….”

But there was the symphonic music.

It stayed with me the entire day, even though I eventually began to play music with words. I worked, my hands sometimes aching, my neck and back burning.

In the middle of the day, I found out I had won a short story contest on Twitter. The prize: an iPod. Music.

And on my way home, as I played that same symphonic CD, I felt “cathedrals in my heart…” I was hurt badly. But I had still been able to write. I hope to become an even better volleyball player by sitting out of this year’s Whitsitt tournament and rebuilding my strength. My hands will improve. I’m in the gap between the trapezes. That’s all.

And once I get to the second trapeze, I am gripping hard.

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