Listening to music is something I have done my whole life. Everyone in my immediate family growing up played at least one instrument besides voice. A lot of us played several and each of us knew how to read piano sheet music to some extent even if we didn’t know how to play it.
I listened to my mom create music from the melodies that she said life was made of. (I’m paraphrasing that in a horrible way, by the way.) She loves music, loves to play whatever comes to mind. She even writes some of it down.
Today, I’m listening to someone play one of my mom’s more complex pieces and realizing that though it isn’t played the same way, it’s still just as heart-stoppingly beautiful. In fact, it’s like hearing something I’ve heard all my life being played in a new arrangement even though it’s not.
It causes me to sit and ponder the meaning of the song, a song that is as much a lullaby that my mother sang to us as played for others, in completely new ways.