Treetop Flyer

He hasn’t listened to much (if any music) since his accident. He used to listen to it all the time. It surrounded him. It was in the car, on his boat, and around his friends. Now he listens to TV-talk shows he doesn’t like, lying in a hospital bed he resents, surrounded by caregivers he pays to spend time with him.

Tomorrow, we’ll turn off the TV and listen to his favorite song; we’ll play it loud. He will rise from his bed; he’ll walk farther and more comfortably than he has in many months. I will remain mostly silent, but ever-present – he won’t need me to tell him how to put one foot in front of the other, only to be there with him as he tries.

Things will never be the same as they once were, but – tomorrow – I hope he rediscovers that music can help move him, still.


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