“What?” Doug said with a smirk on his face, “You’d rather listen to classical than sports talk?” We laughed at the obvious and pulled out of the driveway.
After I let Doug off I began to think back about my love for classical music. Where did it begin? It probably started with Saturday morning cartoons without my even knowing. We always had record albums of classical music in our home as I was growing up. When my parents were gone and I was home alone, I would pick out some of my favorites, put them onto our stereo record player and turn up the volume. I would open the drapes of the front room picture window so I could see my reflection (never thinking of who might be watching from outside) and dance dramatically around the front room. The music ran through my veins into every part of my body as I twirled and jumped and threw myself at the mercy of the composer. The rest of the world fell silently into the background. It was only me and the music.
Perhaps that is why today the music takes me out of the world, if only for a moment, to dance un-abandoned in my mind, as I drive down the road on some mundane errand.
