Before I was even born, my life included music. Between my mother singing to me before I was born and my dad singing to her belly, the harmony of music has been in my life longer than I have been drawing air into my lungs. Tight harmony has been part of that, where chord structures bound into thirds have twisted and turned in the air, jumping from ear to ear. Moving up and building into strong crescendos, tipping back into gentle pianissimo tones. Growing up with that kind of harmony, I am fortunate to be able to read music, but can also hear the harmony. Let me hear a song a few times and then I feel free to jump in (in most cases).
I’ve also been, and am blessed by, some wonderful friendships. I remember writing pages and pages of letters to one of these friends. Such sweet girly fluff that was absolute life and death to us at the time. We wrote letters back and forth about school, boyfriends, teachers, marching band, laughter, hopes, fears, families, I don’t believe that there were any subjects which were off limits. This kind of friend is like a musical third, sketched out on stationary and through life stories rather than score paper. We have laughed hysterically, like a rapid crescendo that leaves to harmony that bubbles back through the phrase. We have cried and cradled each other in sorrow, letting tears play tight minor dissonance resolving back into the harmony over and over. These kinds of friends are rare and a blessing. They are a treasure of life harmony in thirds.