accidental musician

This weekend, I had the chance to go out with my sisters. I've never had sisters before, but thanks to marriage, I have two! At one point, we were talking about music. As some of you know, I took piano lessons for about a year and hated it the whole time. I quit and I have never regretted it. I may be one of the only people in the world who thinks this. My instrument was always my voice. I loved singing in a choir in grade school and high school. In college, I opted to not double major, just so I could spend my final semester taking Intro to Art Studio and Voice. (Two separate classes.) I also got my singing fix by going to a time of prayer every day at 3:30 pm with an incredible professor, who is now a published editor. We sang a cappella hymns every day, cementing my personal love of hymns.

Prayer chapel

Sometimes though, now that I am married, I am an accidental musician.

It almost always happens in the closet. Perhaps you could even call me a closet musician. For you see, in our closet, Caleb keeps his guitar.

Sometimes it happens when I enter, sometimes when I leave. Sometimes when I am getting a scarf off the door rack:

Initially it scared me. "Who is playing the guitar in my house?" Then it moved to surprise, "Where is that guitar music coming from?" Then I realized it was me. For whenever you bump the wall, shut a dresser drawer too hard or move the drawer, the guitar makes its own little noise. Which is quite lovely and surprisingly musical. 

Perhaps someday, I will find another outlet for my love of singing (besides singing this when no one is home). Until then, I will just keep enjoying being an accidental musician.