Watching you lately, the way a new beat consumes you, the sound of the beginning of a track played over and over again, inspires me. I can ask you to turn down the volume and you do, only to turn in up minutes later, because you are in that place during creation where the only thing you can see is the thing you are creating.
Watching you reminds me of long walks to coffee shops to pen lines that approximate the beat of my wanting heart.
I walked into your room the other day and saw you in the process of creation, saw the way your head bobbed and your hand moved up and down to help you keep time. I thought of how you wear your ear buds always and remembered how I always carried a backpack full of books, how I kept them on my desk, though they were not what I was assigned, how I copied lines from those books into my notebooks in an attempt to, in a way, become them.
A few weeks ago I pulled into the driveway and saw you through the window. You were putting away the dishes, but more importantly, you were dancing like I’d never seen you dance. Had I ever seen you dance?
Always when working on a new song, you reach a point of struggle where that struggle makes you snap and brood. You stay for hours in your room fighting your way to the moment where you ask, “Do you want to hear?”
You’ve reminded me of the joy that is the reason for all this struggle to create.