I walked with the determination I found every morning on my way to work. Almost in a trance, I leave the apartment with Benoit. Talk the typical morning conversations, maybe even some chatter about what today might bring for work. As I made my way down the escalator today though, something caught me off guard. There was someone at the bottom playing a song, not unlike most of my mornings, but this felt different. He was on a flute, and had a boombox playing piano behind him. Something about the tune sort of sunk into me, but I couldn't quite place it. Then for some reason my mouth began to "whisper words of wisdom, let it be..." How could I have not put my finger on it sooner, it was Paul McCartney, quite possibly my Father's favorite singer of all time.The melody had sounded so foreign coming from the flute, but the piano was undoubtable. I couldn't help but smile a little and focus in on the music. Slowly the world around me became quieter, and soon all I could hear was that piano. This brought me back to my Father's green ford pickup, sitting in the passenger seat, undoubtedly on the way to a fishing hole or hunting spot. Even as the doors to the metro closed and we took off, I could hear the piano.
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1 comment:
beautiful.
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