30 Days of Thanks: Day 25 🙏 Today, I am profoundly thankful for the gift of hearing. I remember growing up in the basement bedroom of our house. My room, windowless and tucked beside my brother’s, shared the lower level with a bathroom, laundry room, and the family room. The family room, a cozy space with wood paneling and brown carpet stretching wall to wall. That room was the heartbeat of the house. Home to the only television that we would all gather around to watch 90210. And home to my stepdad’s prized Kenwood stereo system—the diamond of the house. It was untouchable, or so we were told. Yet, in secret rebellion, I often adjusted its dials, exploring the magic of its sound, carefully resetting it before he returned from work. 🎶

Maybe they put me in the windowless room to curb any ideas of sneaking out. Being the oldest of five in a chaotic household had its own set of responsibilities. I dished out chores, disciplined when needed, and spent hours in the quiet space of my room. Always listening to music. Waiting for the DJ to stop talking so that I could record my favorite song on my tape recorder. It would always infuriate me when a DJ would keep talking into the song! Haha

Life had its rules, and my dad’s were firm. Shaped by the weight of a dangerous, stressful job and the challenge of raising five kids, three of whom weren’t biologically his. So, it could get a little tense in the house. But, on the weekends, there was something that I could listen for—an echo in the house that would give me a signal that dad was in a good mood, and it was going to be a great weekend. 😊

Sitting in my room, door closed, I could hear a voice that was singing so powerful that it would almost vibrate my door. My dad had turned up the knobs of volume on his Kenwood stereo. The record or vinyl (what they call it nowadays) of choice was Journey. The lead singer Steve Perry belting out pure passion. Raw emotion. Incredible sound. 🎵

It was like there was a balloon being filled full of musical notes coming directly from the speakers. The balloon would increase in size with the slow piano melody at the beginning of the song. Steve Perry’s voice would add to the expansion of the balloon as he started to sing powerful waves of emotion. Slowly, floating in the air, the balloon of music would make its way to my room. Then, just as Steve Perry reached the crescendo, “Don’t Stop Believin’,” the balloon would burst, flooding my little room with sound and pulling me into a daydream. It was captivating. 😌

The same type of tradition fills my home today. From cleaning the house, cooking, doing work, working out, painting a painting, music always fills the room. My family knows that the minute I start cranking up the music that something is about to happen in the kitchen. Putting love into every belted-out lyric, every slice, mix or creative blend of food. Lately, I only play songs that remind me of love and joy. 🥹

And that is what is so great about the sound of music. It can get you motivated to do one more rep at the gym. It can remind you of a slow dance shared with the love or your life. It can help you to dream as you make your way to work. And, it can give you great memories…Like, my dad enjoying music over the weekend. It always brings happiness to my heart to be reminded of that memory. 🥰

I now carry the same record that my dad played when we were going up. He gave it to me before he passed away this year. A prized possession ❤️