My children will always live in a home filled with music. They were born to parents who play, dance, sing, and generally live music (we don’t do any of these things with immense talent, but we do them nonetheless). Our oldest son already plays tunes by ear on his little piano and instantly recognizes Bob Dylan’s work (mom, if you are reading this, you can keep your disparaging comments to yourself). Our youngest enjoys performing his own, personalized version of the “Nutcracker” as we applaud and try not to laugh too hard. Most dinners in our home are followed not by dessert but by the evening “dance party” in the living room, complete with cavorting dogs and very uncoordinated husband.
This photograph is a macro view of the keys on my husband’s bass guitar. While I’ll often make fun of his dancing (see above) or his singing (dying goose, anyone?), his skill with instruments is remarkable. This guitar is a fixture in our home, and I’ll often find him with one of the boys on his lap, teaching them to play their beginning chords. Someone recently mistook the keys and strings in this photograph for the cleats and ropes of a boat, but I find the similarities more than just visual: music takes us on journeys, lets us explore, allows us to travel. For those reasons (and many more), our children will always live in a home filled with music.

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