It's Word Prompt Wednesday,
join me in doing some free writing,
Write whatever comes to mind with the prompt given:
"You're listening to the radio."
The milk swirled into the velvet brown coffee. The aroma rising to my nose--filling the whole kitchen with a sense of peace. This was the perfect time of day when the kids and my husband were still sleeping, snug in their beds. The floors had been cold this morning making me hesitate before jumping out of bed. Now, however, I was happy I had made the decision.
The radio plays the song from my childhood. Not your typical teenage rant but a classical piece. Rachmaninoff I think. One of his concertos. It takes me back to the trips with choir in our blue and yellow polo shirt and easily stained white pants. The feeling that I was one when we sang in a choir of over a hundred people. The late night improptu pizza parties as we planned for musicals. The sense of home that I would have as I walked into the music room everyday.
Of course then there were the many early morning practices. Even then it was a sacred hour for me--a new day that seemed like a personal conversation between God and I. On cold days my breath would hang in the air before me as I followed the railroad tracks to school. The birds were still silent and the sun was just starting to peek out on the world. It felt like home.
...all that from a simple song.