Sweet Melodies

A few weeks ago, I was with my sister-in-law, and we were talking with an acquaintance of ours. Because the acquaintance was born out of state and doesn’t have family that’s local, she invited us to go wedding dress shopping with her to help her pick a dress. Let me say, I was so honored to be asked that, and it was with great enthusiasm that I agreed to go.

I love weddings. And all things wedding related. I’m married, I’ve done the whole bridezilla thing, but there’s just something stuck on the inside of me that adores watching two people make such a ginormous step in their lives when they choose to stand before God and commit to marriage. There’s just nothing like it.

And the decorations. The gorgeous flowers. Cake. Rhinestones. Tulle. Oh my!

Back to the original topic. I heartily agreed to go dress shopping, and it was so much fun. We talked, laughed, had lunch at the Cheesecake Factory (yum!!), and I learned a lot about her that I didn’t have a clue about. One of those things is that she sings. When I say she sings, I mean she really sings. Classically.

I hear a lot of people say they can sing. I mean, c’mon, we’ve all seen a zillion episodes of American Idol and it’s crazy how many confident “singers” can’t carry a tune. So when my friend told me she could sing, I’ll be one hundred percent honest and say that I didn’t really know what that meant. Can she “sing” or can she sing? There’s a difference.

So after the dress shopping, we all came back to my house. My sister-in-law in a not-so-subtle way, asked our friend to sing something for us. You and me both know it was more of a let’s-see-if-you-can-really-sing type of thing. Are we mean? Yeah, probably. We would have loved her even if she couldn’t carry a tune, but we were so darn curious!

She smiled at us. That I-see-exactly-what-your-doing kind of smile, but she agreed to sing a song for us. And she asked us, is it ok if it’s in Italian?


Goosebumps. That’s the first thing I got when she started to sing.

Tears. My eyes just filled to the brim when I realized it had been half a decade since I’d heard such a rich classical melody in an undeniably beautiful language.

I can’t say I was remorseful for having her sing for us. Wrong reasons for asking her, sure, but how long had it been since I’d heard such a pure sweet melody? I tried so hard not to get emotional. Music is the one thing that I really don’t do therapy for. It still has such a technical static-y sound to it because I haven’t forced myself to listen to it much. It’s the hardest thing to do really. There’s so many instruments usually jumbled together and the thought of spending countless hours to listen to something that isn’t really enjoyable to eventually (after countless hours) make it enjoyable…. well…. it just isn’t a very appealing thought.

So it must be obvious that when I find a melody, a type of music, or anything with a single instrument or voice, I really do enjoy it.

And I realize now that the end result of a melody that beautiful, of the Italian song my friend so graciously sang for us, reminds me that there really is a prize worth the effort. Music is, and always will be, a great ambition to continue down the learning curve that my Cochlear Implant leads me down.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once wrote:

Heights by great men reached and kept were not obtained by sudden flight but, while their companions slept, they were toiling upward in the night.


One response to this post.

  1. This made me chortle for an extended time.


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