The old house

I love my friends.  There is something about a friend who does not share your blood nor beliefs, nor lifestyle.  But is a good friend just the same.  I have blogged before about my friend Sam. Sam and I hated each other when we met in Symphony at Weber State.  He is a cellist, I am a cellist.  He is artsy fartsy.  I am not.  But over the years, we found that our interpretation of music is pretty similar (with the exception that I tend to play in tune and Sam, well, does not really care about that....).  We have never ever ever had a romantic relationship (ew...... and anyone who knows Mr. Sam knows what I mean...) but a very close friendship.

So, tomorrow, Sam and I are playing cello duets for a work thing of mine.  (I secretly volunteered so I don't have to mingle).  And so Sam came over tonight to run through the old set of tunes. He played his music love - contemporary piano trio groups (for those who are not familiar - it consists of a pianist, a violinist, and a cellist.  By contemporary, I mean it sounds like cats on a piano and a whole lot of angry string musicians making noise) - and I listened.  Some was interesting, some was strange, some was beautiful.  We played some of the baroque cello duets and I realized that, while I used to play Sam under the table, he is much much better than me and that is okay.  He is patient with my mistakes and I am tolerant of his lack of being able to count to four.  Or play in tune.

It really was like old times.  We laughed, played music, ate a great dinner, he talked to his fiancée, drank Diet Pepsi, and just chilled.

But when he left, I realized that it was like going back into a house that you used to live in.  You are familiar with all the walls and the floor plan.  You know which stair creaks and you laugh about the time when........   It has great memories, it was a place you learned things, got hurt, felt love, but it is strange. It is not your home any longer.  It feels slightly empty because you no longer live in that place and your soul is somewhere else and has moved on.

That is how I felt tonight.  It was a step back into another time.  A happy time with good friends and fun music.  But when I stripped my little man nekkid to dunk into the bathtub, I realized that this life is where I feel happiest.  My soul is here.  We snuggled and, instead of gushing over the latest interpretation of a symphony, I sang a simple Primary song to my son and loved it more.    My hands can no longer fly up and down my cello like they used to, but they can play Eensy Weensy Spider with Aiden and it is more fulfilling for me.

So, even though I love the "old house" that was my life, it is fun to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there again.