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Tune of His Life

I walk to the edge of the stairs. He’s playing the piano again. I smirk as he stumbles on the keys, attempting to find the next chord for his melody. He’s been playing that tune for as long as I can remember. It changes occasionally from time to time, but the basic skeleton of it remains the same. I remember when he would just stick to the minor chords. I wanted to cry every time I heard him play it.
This is the tune of his life. He can never quit get it right. He’s lost. Now, I can hear he’s trying to move to major chords, but it sounds wrong, so he tumbles back down the chromatic scale, sticking with what he knows best. I start to hum along in a somber harmony. My voice and the piano strings sound so good together. Before I know it, words flow from my mouth. Words about betrayal and hurt and anger. He doesn’t even know how connected, to him, this makes me feel. I stand there, blissfully, wishing this moment would never end. I hum, sing, hum, and sing. Then silence.
For that one moment, through the mystery of music, the universal language, I understood just what he was feeling. For that one moment, I felt as though I could sing through eternity. For that one moment, he was laying bare the innermost depths of his heart, concealed in the sequential code of notes, to be decoded by my harmony in voice. Through the miracle of human intuitiveness and the human spirit, I felt more connect to him than I ever have before.



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