The Days I Miss My Saxophone

Years ago, back when poofs were cool, telephones were connected to the wall and the internet didn't exist (in my world anyway), I played a saxophone.  It feels like a century ago, but since I'm only 34 it isn't possible it was that long ago.


My dad played the sax and so in my fifth grader brain that made perfect since that I would too and I absolutely loved playing.  I was in the band for several years, but I never played at church.  I only played by note and I was afraid to take to the platform and hope for my ears to pick up the correct notes.  I loved the sound of the saxophone and I still love to hear good sax music.


Sometimes, it doesn't happen often, I miss playing my sax.  Some days I regret putting my sax away and not ever pulling it out again.  I can't even remember why I put it away.  Honestly, I don't remember.  I knew I had no desire to play in the marching band (the practices interfered with church activities) but there was jazz band I could have played in, but when I hit high school I stopped playing. I regret it.  I regret not being courageous enough to play at church and pray my ears could hear the key. I regret not playing with the jazz band for the one and only year I went to public high school.  And before you ask, yes I graduated, from a christian school.  I regret walking away from all the musical knowledge I had learned and practiced so hard to learn.


Today is one of those days.  One of those days that I miss playing and creating music.


I have always secretly wanted to and still want to play a soprano sax.  The most beautiful tones come from a soprano sax and I want to play.  So maybe one day I will.  Maybe one day I will open up that case, buy a new reed {hahahaha, if you play you will know why} and revive my blowing skills.  Maybe one day I will buy a soprano and learn to play.


Just maybe. . . .sometime before I loose all my teeth.

My Daddy, Just A Few Thoughts

My Daddy is a great man. I am an only child and yes I was spoiled and still am. My Dad though is wonderful. My dad used to snore. Yes, used to, he now has a breathing machine because of sleep apnea, but as a kid he used to raise the roof. I loved to hear him snore. When I went away to college, I couldn't sleep for the first week, because there was no snoring. That sound was the sound of my protector and he was there, in the house, should my mom and I need him.

When I was little (maybe 7 or 8) I came outside while my dad was preparing to go on a hunting trip to Colorado, he went every year and he was checking out his bow. I was just amazed. I didn't usually see any weapons, he never just left them laying around, so I thought it was just the coolest thing, that bow. He began to tell me how it worked and showed me the arrow. I was lost through most of it, but he loved telling me and I loved listening to my daddy. I remember thinking how big and strong he looked with his hunting gear on and his bow out. My daddy can be a man of few words, but he always said what was important. I always knew he loved me, he showed me and told me often.

My daddy is older now, and so am I. I am not listening for snoring anymore, but I still know that whatever I need my daddy is there. Hubs is great and I love him dearly, but there is just something about daddy. Daddy's do something that no one else can do.

I thank God today and everyday for a good daddy. A daddy who raised me right, took good care of me, loved me and my mom unconditionally (and still does), prayed for me and is now an awesome grandpa.

I am so blessed.