In recent days, I have watched as my daughter’s intense love for music has grown immensely.
It has grown, intensely;
Incandescently.
My girl now sings songs. Entire songs.
The guitar strums it’s first chord
and she knows the song, instantly,
and she begins.
And this is all wonderful.
But, it is her musical abilities that impress me so much less
than her musical soul.
Because, not only can she pick out songs,
but she can feel the music.
I can see it. She makes me feel it, too.
One of our favorite pastimes has become “Snuggle Music”,
a time during which she rests her head on my stomach and we play music from the computer;
everything from “Jolene” to “Jackson Five”;

I pick songs for her and she tells me how she likes them. Today she was into “Dancing in September” and the “Disco Man” animations playing during this Youtube version of Earth Wind and Fire.
We create a playlist, together.
We snuggle. We listen.
And if she’s really feeling music, she starts to sing. Without knowing the song, she just starts to hum along,
and then, her lips part and she begins to make a melody of her own and she sways to the notes and weaves in and out of the verses with the song she is hearing (and the one she is creating).
Today, I played this song for her.
This song is staggering in it’s own right.
And during the first few measures, my daughter protested, asking for “Disco Man”.
But then, I saw her succumb to the melody; to the pain in the piano’s notes; to the heartbreak in his voice.
And then, she began to sing along.
I lost my breath, as tears began to fall down my cheeks.
My daughter is a musician.
I am so proud to know it.