I remember six.
What it was to go down to my grandfather’s basement and sing at the top of my lungs while he played guitar.
I remember chords and burning and the life and longing that only comes with a great song.
I remember faces beaming and proud looks screaming “legacy”. I remember the look in his eye…the song in his fingers….the bliss of a guitar fully freed.
Tonight my five year old wrote a song. I haven’t taught him the language of music yet. I haven’t showed him. Yet he brings me this.
I’m transported back in time to notes played freely and voices ringing loudly…to no inhibitions. Just me and my voice and the voice of one who believed in me.
And I wonder…can legacy exist when no one is looking?
But I am looking. I remember. So tonight I stare at the random notes written on unseen bar.
I flail at the night and remember who I am. And in that, I find my children and see the light.
It travels freely through the darkness, unhindered.
Because legacy is greater than us. It sweeps through the fragments of the soul and finds a home in the unhindered.
So tonight I write, I dream, I awake in the morning in memory and hope. Because the future is brighter and God is working.
I am a puzzle piece groping for truth. I hold life and I, only, know how to let it out with word and song so I keep going.
Light and life are worth the effort.