Soundtrack to an Ordinary Day

I hesitated outside the door of the dimly lit shop. There was a man behind the counter, sifting through a box. I wondered if he'd noticed me, but he seemed too engrossed with his task. If I walked away now, I could forget about this scheme and there'd be no harm done. But I'd be empty handed and I had to return home with something!

Inhale.

Exhale.

I gripped the doorknob and twisted. A bell rang. There'd be no going back now.

The small shop was full of tables with bins of vinyl records. And the walls were decorated with framed records and album covers. The man at the counter looked up as I approached. A welcoming smile appeared under his carefully groomed mustache.

"Good evening, can I help you?" he asked as he slid the box of records he'd been inventorying to the side.

"I hope so," I replied. "Are you the Music Man?"

"I am."

"I heard from a friend, well an acquaintance really, that you can do custom orders."

"You mean the personal soundtracks?" the Music Man asked.

I nodded, relieved that he knew what I was talking about.

"We certainly do! Though I admit, I haven't done one in quite some time! Not a popular request these days."

"Suppose it's becoming a lost art in this age of streaming," I mused.

"Indeed," he said wistfully as his eyes studied a brick in the wall above us. Shaking his nostalgia away he gestured toward an alcove containing a vintage leather sofa and a few arm chairs. "Shall we?"

"Yes, let's do it."

He removed a notepad and pen from his pockets before we settled ourselves. Then he lit a candle on a small coffee table that smelled of cinnamon and declared "I usually find it best to start at the beginning."

"Like my birth?"

"No, not that far back. Let's just begin with a typical morning," he suggested. "Close your eyes and walk me through your day from start to finish."

I squeezed my eyelids closed. "Well, my alarm goes off and I usually hit snooze a couple of times. I'm a heavy sleeper and I love sleep so waking up for work is never easy. I usually pull the covers closer and snuggle up next to my husband's warmth which only makes it harder to get moving."

"Good. Very good. Stay in that moment and just hum whatever comes to mind."

I opened my mouth to say I couldn't think of anything, but then there it was. Music floating in my head. I closed my lips and let the melody thrum in my vocal chords.

"Got it!" the Music Man exclaimed. "Wonderful! Okay, what happens next?"

"When I finally get myself up I shuffle around in the dark to gather my things and head downstairs to get ready for work. There's usually a fair degree of disgruntled sighing."

Once again music threaded through my mind so smoothly it spilled out of me before I fully realized it.

"Would that be the original track by Simon & Garfunkel?" he asked.

"No, no it's definitely the Disturbed cover" I replied automatically. "Really captures the angst."

The sound of his pen on paper filled the silence. When it halted I continued, "Then I take the dog on a short walk and pray a bit while we circle the block. And after that it's time to go and I drive a short commute to the middle school I work at, usually catching at least part of the sunrise."

"The mornings start out well with first period. Really great group of kids that engage so well with each other and the material. They've got a lot of room to grow but they are always willing to try."

I couldn't help but rock from side to side a little as the upbeat tune swelled within me.

An airy chuckle escaped the Music Man's lips as he scribbled.

"Second period is pretty great too! Some goofballs and sleepers in the mix, but I really enjoy our classes and most of them do too. Lots of kids in that group have some tough obstacles in their way, but they've got a beautiful fighting spirit."

"During third and fourth periods I've got my planning and meeting times. Some days it's a peaceful and productive time, but others it's an exercise in frustration from pointless meetings or having to cover other classes."

I sighed and rubbed my temples, "And then it's time for fifth period. Ugh... the attitudes, the complaining, the lack of motivation. Every minute of that hour is a test of patience. "

"Swiftie?" the Music Man asked after I hummed a few notes.

I cracked an eye open to appraise whether or not his countenance was judgmental. It wasn't. I nodded.

"Finally there's sixth period. Last class of the day is a circus! Everyone's on a different page and marching to the beat of their own drum. I'm ready to wind down and they're tired of keeping it together. I'm there to teach English Language Arts and they are totally checked out after six hours of listening to people talking in English. But we have some fun and manage to end the day without disaster."

It took the Music Man a moment to place the tune but finally an "Aha!" signaled his triumph.

"At last the bell rings, the buses are off, and I'm headed home!"

For the first time since we began no lyrics or sounds waltzed into my brain. There was only quiet.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"No," he assured me. "An uncommon selection to be sure, but I've got it."

I heard his pen gliding again.

"Continue," he directed.

"Once I get home I usually read or nap a little and then spend some time in Scripture."

A calming ethereal succession of notes began to echo in my head.

"I'll try to squeeze in a little time for writing. Get some of the stories or lines of poetry out of my head and onto a page or screen."

The fantastic and whimsical combination of Whitney and Brandy blasted into my brain with a punch.

"Then it's time for my husband and I to rally and walk the dog before dinner. We do a bit of commiserating and also joke around during our trek."

Some full on head bopping accompanied my chaotic humming.

"Some nights there's evening volleyball to be played, so I venture out of the house once more. This time in the dark. And employ any remaining physical and mental energy toward earning a W on the sand court."

"Original or remix?"

"Remix with Kendrick Lamar."

"After showering off back at home, I settle down on the couch with my husband and finish off the night with a cinematic adventure."

"Then it's time for bed. My husband reads a Psalm and prays."

"A good night kiss and it's time to dream again."

"Perfect!" the Music Man exclaimed. "I'd nearly forgotten how fun that process is. Wish we could keep going, but I daresay that's a wrap."

I opened my eyes, already missing the presence of the music in my head.

"What now?" I asked.

"Your custom record will be ready by the end of next week. You can pick it up on Friday if you'd like."

"That'd be great," I said with a smile. "Do you think I could take a copy of the track list with me, tonight?"

"Sure thing." He tore out the page from his note pad and handed it to me.

"Won't you need it though?"

"No. I've got it all in here. He tapped his forehead. I am the Music Man after all."

"Very well, then. Thank you so much!"

"Thank you, for visiting the Music Store!"

I waved goodbye as I headed for the shop door.

I swung it open and the bell dinged. It kept dinging over and over again. The shop and the street outside the windows disappeared. Everything was dark. My face was buried in a pillow. My husband mumbled something in his sleep. I reached a hand out and fumbled for my phone to hit the snooze button.

After trudging down the stairs I started preparing some tea. While the electric kettle hissed a flash of a page with scrawled notes flashed before my eyes. The soundtrack!

I hustled to my computer and began to type before the list disappeared with the rest of my dreams.