I miss music.
I miss music in a way I cannot explain to people who do not appreciate it, to people who do not actually play an instrument. I miss sitting down on the porch with my guitar or bass, legs curled under me, cigarette hanging from my mouth, drink at my side. Not that I miss smoking.. But I miss music. I miss letting all my frustrations, anger, sadness, pain, misery, and any other negative emotion go while I strummed, sang.. or even when I played a piano. I miss letting the feeling of the vibration of the strings enhance my happiness and joy. I miss feeling goosebumps raise on my arms as I play something that resonates my soul.
I miss music.
I miss feeling the keys depress under my fingers. I miss the feel of the strings as they vibrate and pop. I miss feeling my heart beating faster and faster, as I get closer to the breakdowns.
I fucking miss music.
I even miss my fingers hurting after I’ve played too long. I miss looking up to realize a few hours have passed, stretching slowly to pop my back, and rolling my head around to loosen my neck. I miss rubbing the cramps out of arthritis-laden hands and smiling, because the pain was worth the time I got to play. I miss holding my bass. I miss taking a sip of whatever I was drinking after I don’t know how much time, letting it cool my parched throat, because I forgot where I was for a long while, while I played. I miss closing my eyes and lowering my head as I played the sounds over and over in my head, testing different notes to see what I liked best, before beginning to play again. I miss the countless hours I “lost” while playing.
I miss music!
I miss seeing my daughter sit next to me, sometimes for hours, mesmerized by whatever I played. I miss hearing her hum along as she got the rhythm and beat, I miss hearing her make up songs to whatever I played. I miss seeding her eyes light up as I pulled out one of my guitars and began tuning it. I miss her incessant questions about why I did this or that, and how. I miss seeing her eyes light up as I started to play.
I miss music.
I miss the absolute release. I miss how exhausted I would be after playing out my emotions. I miss dragging myself to bed at whatever hour because I gave music all my hurt and I had nothing left. I miss walking back inside with a flounce because I let go of all the hurt and added back to my joy.
I miss playing.
I miss my bass.
I miss being able to play for hours instead of a few minutes before I’m crying form pain, because of a severely damaged wrist.
I miss the release.
I fucking miss music. And listening is never the same.