(her daughter is flying in for the weekend from New York and lands about the time we would normally start working on pieces)
i haven’t touched a single thing i was supposed to look at, and am tired/brain-scrambled enough to be profoundly glad for one less hour of singing in this week of weeks. she probably did herself a favor in this. unknowingly saving herself from trying to salvage something from the time as i oscillated from extreme to further extreme than usual. ugh.
anyway, it was clear that she wished she could have attended tonight’s concert, and left me with a number of kind, encouraging insights before we parted ways. clear also to me that i will miss her face among the attendees far more than i might be pleased to see my mother’s. i physically winced at that.
tonight is not about you, i remind myself—another relief. thank the music for its balm (its buffer). thank the faith for the music. thank Time, oft-spurred and even oftener leash-yanked, for passing yet through this frame.