The concert rings in my ears and beats in my ribcage as Emily and I wind our way back Dartmouth, Newbury, and Hereford St., back to the T, back to North Station, back to home. I buzz with Zoë's cello, but most with her love of making music. For an hour and a half, she shared her joy, her love of composition, her love of the deep earth sounds and the sounds of wind and the sounds of water - all hidden in the belly of her instrument.
I feel my feet strike the comforting hard brick pavement of city, of Boston, of me being me whenever I walk everywhere and take public transportation and people watch by the Public Library and laugh my way through window shopping with my friend. And I know that there is gratitude here, today.
And the discipline is the ache of praise:
15. For Fern, Zoë Keating's song perched in my soul and singing (without words), but never stopping.
16. For the green-grey ocean on Thursday rustled by breezes.
17. For book trivia and finish-the-quote and what-is-the-name-of with Dad and Joe about Harry Potter, Narnia, Sense & Sensibility, and all the best stories of childhood.
18. For that beautiful-smelling grass soap at Sabon on Newbury St.
19. For laughing until our sides hurt at dinner out on Wednesday because the family was telling funny stories and laughing about the trials of young love.
20. For the trip to California tomorrow morning (early - 6am!)
May this day, each moment, fill you with the ache to praise, the ache of praise. May peace blossom in your heart from the One who is our peace.