I’ve lit a candle.
Classical piano plays.
I have coffee sitting beside me.
I am home.
Oh my goodness I am home.
The world is busy. The noise, sometimes far too loud.
But there is such beauty and softness in the quiet places.
Let the quiet places sing to your heart, always.
It is my dearest wish for you.
My dearest wish.
All my love.
xx Brooke
I’ve just done some counting. My absolute least favourite thing.
And according to my calculations, I’ve had my piano (a digital piano) for seventeen years.
Seventeen years.
There was a moment a few weeks ago when it didn’t turn on. My stomach fell, and in that moment I had an entire conversation with myself.
It was like the life of the piano flashed before my eyes.
All the songs we’d written together.
All the tears I’d cried as she helped mend my broken hearts.
What if she was gone?
If she didn’t turn on.
I realised I’d still have my voice to create music, and that thought soothed me.
But my goodness I was pleased ‘my baby’ turned on eventually.
Boy, was I ever pleased.
Yesterday, I was a little bit naughty.
I had a blog post to write—and a darling one, at that.
But.
Instead of sitting at the computer, crafting a darling world of words, I leaned over the piano and melted into the melody of other people’s lives for a while. Song after song I devoured until I was there: in that wondrous place that appears when music happens to the world all around me.
I didn’t have a darling thing to write about. I wasn’t feeling the feels, hearing the voice that shouts all the good things into my ear in order for me to spill them into the darling lives of all of you.
I was lost.
Maybe that’s why I turned to the piano and not the computer.
You’d think it was a mistake, wouldn’t you, picking the piano? That I should have at least been trying to write a blog post, pinching at all the threads of darling in my mind, hoping to find the one.
Well. It was no mistake.
Quite the opposite, actually. It was a gift.
Because it was at the piano that I rediscovered the whimsical wonder of Moon River, the subject of yesterday’s darling blog. The glow of the moonlight, the calming drift of the river as she wound her gentle way into my soul. That song. Darling never sounded so sweet, did it?
So, there we were, me and my Huckleberry friend, drifting away—the two of us lost in a dream, tumbling toward the glittery wonder of the rainbow’s end. And all the while, the real world sat quietly and waited for us to return.
What a shame I had to come back from that beautiful place.
Then again, what a blessing.
I mean.
I had to tell you guys all about it, didn’t I? Because this blog is, after all, how my most darling days are made.
Don’t even get me started about the darling friends I’ve met along the way.
If words are the darling of my mind, then music is the darling of my soul.
Today I remembered it.
Just today. When I sat at the piano and sang my soul into the moment all around me.
What darling bliss it was.
I used to write songs, you know? My first experience of the muse and its silent, roaring power.
That power.
Can you imagine? A life as a song?
My life.
Memories, and loves, and the deepest of heartaches.
Today, I remembered them all: the gifts that music gave to me.
Darling, darling music.
Same time tomorrow?
brooke-cutler.com 