It's just me today.

Well, we've been absent, yes. Actually, I've been writing away, storing blogs on the computer, but Sean has been neck deep in new music and a new way to bring it to you. More on that in a few weeks but, trust me, when you hear where it's going, your head's gonna explode. In any case, the man's been busy. I was trying to wait until he got a blog done before I posted mine, but we got this email recently that made me want to cry so naturally I figured I should impose that on you fine people. In short, the email was about how Sean's music had been the soundtrack to someone's life--their courtship, marriage, birth of their children, death of their parents, ups and downs and all those in between times when you are barefoot and dancing in the kitchen alone. The thing is, we get these emails all the time. Each and every time, I'm still amazed and awed and inspired and moved.

And then I started thinking about how, actually, Sean's music is the soundtrack to MY life.

When I was first married, I drank up these sweet, beautiful sayings on how to make your marriage long and lovely: “Tell your spouse one nice thing each day”, “Always find a way to let them know they are appreciated”. As though the strongest marriages were a series of compliments and kindnesses.

But. Years go by, and scattered among these niceties there are piles of laundry to be done and the cat is vomiting underneath the bed, and you struggle to get the kids to bed just so you can drink wine and eat cheese and binge watch Grey’s Anatomy while your husband rolls his eyes in the bed next to you. And you learn, marriage is about more than the nice things you say. It’s about the things you keep to yourself. The thoughts that pop up, surprising you, despite your immense love (i’ll put your toothbrush in the toilet if you tell that joke one more time). So much of marriage, it seems, is the kindness of holding your tongue, of turning your head, of overlooking so as to spare the other’s feelings. This kindness, it seems, you learn over time.

Unless, that is, you are married to a songwriter. In this partnership, there is nowhere to hide from your flaws, from your shortcomings, from your partner’s true feelings. Every argument, every doubt, every wrong word spoken. Fodder for lyrics, a garden of ideas (“when you lose all your teeth may you please shut your mouth”?! You should’ve seen my face when I heard that one). The nooks of your marriage, set to melody. It creeps into your mind. Was that lyric about our fight last week? And you, a believer of best face forward, having to learn to put your ego aside for the sake of this greatness you believe in, this outpouring of genius.

And then of course, comes the upside. The beautiful, weeping like a 16 year old girl because my boyfriend wrote a song for me upside. To hear a song being born—from the handful of notes he plays on the guitar to the mumblings that turn into lyrics—and then to feel the magic of that song; it’s like I’m a fan all over again. Like I’m the girl making coffee and I’m working up the nerve to ask him to play “Wet”. Like we broke up and he's singing Ryan Adams at open mic night to woo me back. And I realize how much this music, this life, has given us, and how grateful I am to be a part of the soundtrack to my own life.


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