Day Ten: Childhood
It's no wonder I was a skinny child; I was a wanderer. On weekends and long, summer days, I'd put away my books and paper dolls and walk, alone, as far as I was allowed to go, for as long as I was allowed to be away.
The northwest corner of what was then Southwest Missouri State Teachers College sat catty-cornered across the street from our house. My earlier adventures on the college property had to be within sight of home, but the boundaries of both time and distance expanded with each passing year, and there came a time when I was given free rein to explore the entire campus.
One summer day, when I was about 10 or 11, I was walking along a dirt path, obviously a well-worn shortcut between two buildings, when I heard beautiful piano music. I left the path, followed the music, and discovered an open basement window in the music building. Shrubs grew next to the window. Two of them were spaced so that their branches touched, leaving a small, shady, cavelike area between their trunks. I crawled into that space, leaned against the cool, smooth surface of the building, and listened until the music finally stopped.
For the rest of the summer, that spot was my favorite destination. By the following summer I thought I was too old to be crawling around like a little kid, so I didn't go back. In my mind, though, I've returned there many times, lured now as I was then by the kind of music that pacifies my soul.
Here's a modern piece that takes me right back under those bushes at the base of the music building. Press play, then pull yourself mentally into your own cool, shady place, close your eyes, and relax.
The song is "River Flows in You" by Yiruma.
Thanks to TPL Tan for posting the video on YouTube.