My return from the weekend was scheduled to begin initiation by giving me the privledge of writing a dull paper for a duller class. My heart and mind chose music instead. Because of a growing urge, I opened the closet, wiped the dust from the case fabric, and assembled my trumpet for playing. With the aid of Silent Brass, I have the liberty to play my trumpet at normal volume without fear of drawing the attention of my neighbors. So I played. And played. And played. My lips ballooned from the pressure of the mouthpiece and my significant sabbatical from trumpet exercises. Nevertheless, I endured through scales, old stanzas, and blues improvisations and satisified my thirst to play again. My veins should continue to be filled with the desire to express myself musically, and my trumpet will receive its deserved attention.

Sometimes words can only express so much. I could write about my Memorial Day home with my family, my good friends, and the girl I adore. Today though, I expressed my feelings musically, not verbally.