I tend to tie music, songs, musical events, etc. – to the things that they happened around. I can hear a song and instantly be at that spot in time, that physical location. I get flooded with sounds, sights, smells, even the temperatures of the moment.

It’s like this odd switch gets flipped. I guess it doesn’t come as a big shocker then that we’re a bit of a singing couple. We’ll hear something on tv – a partial line from a random song and BOOM – we’ll both finish the phrase in the song, singing it out.

Yes, we’re weird that way.

It’s a bit of a time machine.

• There’s that song that played when we got engaged. Piano-player, weirdo outside that we watched, food that we ate, the weather, the crowd all of it, every time I hear that song.
• There’s that hard-driving song that reminds me of certain afternoon dates. I can smell your skin, feel the sun through the window on me, see the look on your face, the fire in your eyes. I can see the swing of your hips, the prowling approach.
• Then there is that playlist, where every. single. time. I hear it, I feel you move. I feel your skin. I smell your hair. I feel your touch. I see your body when it gives in and at last, lets go. I see that grin sneak across your face.

There are others of course. Times out and about. Dances. All of it. Music is really a bit of a diary I suppose. It’s a bizarre tabbed journal with pages marked with songs, showing experiences, both old and new, and urging on next experiences.

Driving rhythms.

Escalating melodies.

Soft music for those emotional times of life.

Risque for those physical times.

I love the music of our lives and the direct connection it has to the sites, sounds, experiences, smells, and feelings that it holds – and I’ve finally learned not to question it, to just take it at face value and let it rule the day when it happens.