Clair de Lune

Suite Bergamasque  No. 3, L 75: Clair de Lune. Peter Schmalfuss.
I'm listening to it right now. The notes drift from the piano with a soft peace that fills me up like deep breath in bed after a long day at work. Like looking out over my new town from the mountain trail. As peaceful as looking at the picture of my dog Andee, remembering when he was a puppy.
The notes continue to ring out, each pressed key pushes open a door to thought. I think about running. Running up endless trails to the top of the hill. Sun reflecting off yellow weed. Keys continue to pound. I'm laying in my bed, thinking about my brother, about to come home from his mission. The light of my lamp softly illuminates the room. The room we shared, and now would share again as he returned. The song moves on. I'm saying goodbye to friends. To family. I walk away. Get on a plane. Move to a new place. Now the climbing crescendo. I find myself laughing with new friends, smiles pass around. I'm beginning classes. The subjects fascinate, captivate, inspire. As the song begins to close, I sit in the library with my textbook. I'm smiling. I close my eyes. The song ends.