Finding My Human
You were approaching the gray staircase that leads to the library. I wasn’t sure you would actually walk up the stairs or continue walking towards the parking lot, the way most people do. I saw you throw a little piece of your sandwich to the squirrel a few feet away from you. Then, I saw you hesitate and turn around, as if you were watching for someone. After you took eleven steps up the stairs, you stopped. Your head turned from side to side before pulling your phone out of your pocket. Putting your phone up to your ear, you had an inquisitive look before throwing your head back and smiling from ear to ear, laughing. I only wish I could have heard that laugh. Even with my incredible ability to hear, I could not hear you. From one hundred feet away, it looked like the sound another makes when it’s stepped on. Again, you started to walk up the concrete steps, now with a smooth stride. You even took a few stairs two at a time. At the top, you disappeared into the arms of another girl. I could see the excitement in your faces. You once again laughed that outrageous laugh before vanishing into the building with her. I was only one hundred feet away, but it felt like I was observing you from another world. I walked towards the library, hoping to find you. I do not know why, but I felt like you needed me. I sensed a deep longing and sadness behind your laugh. Even from where I stood, I could see the bags under your eyes and puffy cheeks from that weird salt water humans have coming out of their eyes when they are sad. I just knew you needed a dog and what a coincidence, because I needed a human.
There are singers, composers, conductors, instrument players, teachers, students, and enthusiasts within the industry.
I could not give a technical reason as to what classifies good music. I do not know the significance between notes and a scale, if there even is one. If a singer is off pitch, I would not know. Apparently there are minor and major chords. I have zero knowledge how to begin to write a song. I cannot dance to the beat because I do not understand the beat. I do not sing in public out of the respect of others’ hearing. Practicing the flute as a kid, my mom would move up the timer. Truly, I do not understand the reasons critics classify music as good and bad.
What I can say about music is I remember the world turning blurry while practicing pirouettes to Tchaiskovsy during rehearsal for “The Nutcracker”. My cousin and I pretend to be mermaids in the pool while my dad blasts “Whip It” by DEVO on our giant boom box in the summer. I am thirteen and listen to Maroon 5 while feeling extremely confused about my place in the world. I grip the wheel while driving to my very first job and hear Taylor Swift’s “Bad Blood” on the radio. I watch my first boyfriend drive me home from school on a Friday while singing “Unconditionally” by Katy Perry and falling even more in love with his blond hair in the wind. I remember standing next to my best friend at her wedding and dancing to “God Gave Me You” at her reception.
I do not know a lot about the musical chords, notes or scales, but I know music allows freedom when feeling lost. It helps hold onto emotions within memories. It can turn back time.
That is all I need to know.