Music

So I've been listening to our ceremony music today. We've had a lot of people ask for CDs of it, and while I've been burning discs (and designing intriguing sites all about deodorant, of course), I've been listening to these songs on repeat.

And, well. Um. I don't know how to begin to say what's on my mind. Music has always been important to me. It's so entwined in my memories that often songs cannot be separated from their corresponding events. En Vogue's "Whatta Man" reminds me of Jamie Johnson in the red metro convertible. Godspell's "Day by Day" will always remind me of my friend Mark. I will never hear Madonna's Lucky Star without thinking about how on my first date, Lance and I danced to just that song. Or how (god help me) during Color Me Badd's "I Adore Mi Amore" Scott Haden saved me the humiliation of sitting by myself the Homecoming I got stood up and asked me to dance. Even recently I listen to "Montana Skies" by John Denver to escape this city a bit, remembering how I played it on repeat as I painted in the mountains this summer.

Music has always been important to me. Partly because a lot the people I love most adore it so, and thereby help me adore it. Revere it. Stand in its uncompromising power to move the spirit.

And today, today has reminded me of all that and more. These songs coming rushing at me with a power I cannot describe. The lyrics I so carefully listened to, printed out and ruminated over for months now hold an entirely new meaning. I cannot hear the music without picturing a ravishing sunset; feeling the wind blow across the fields. It takes me straight to everyone I love most, just like it took me to *the* one I love most just months ago.

But what's different this time, is I don't hear what's actually playing. I hear Nathan's voice filtering across the green at me. Hear his breath in the mic and his fingers on the strings. I hear Leslie's voice reaching up among the stars and can clearly see Ryan dancing behind the piano as the music picks up. I hear, during 100 names, Sam's voice whisper in my ear, "Ryan is amazing." I remember hearing Les sing that very song in my garage and still tear up at just the memory of its beauty. I love listening to Concrete and Clay and being able to picture Lance rocking back and forth with this amazing smile as he beat the bongos. Or, dear lord, Scott putting Huey Lewis AND the News to shame during Power of Love.



That was one of the greatest gifts we were given at our wedding. These people taking their time and their talents and doing nothing less than giving us something time can never fade or lessen. They gave me - us - something I can never thank them enough for. They took this little spot of grass in Olathe, Kansas and turned it into magic. It was open and sweeping and the wind blew through it, and yet they filled every inch of it. They filled it with love and hope and everything I had dreamed of. I don't believe I'll ever be able to find the words to thank them.

But I do know that every time I listen to this playlist, from now until I'm 80 years old, I will hear them playing, them singing . . .and I will thank the gods that they were there. That they gave us so precious a gift.

And I will forever be trying to find a way to thank them.