What is it about music...

...that conjures up emotions that appear deep and suspiciously superficial all at once?

It's happened before that I've been asked to create a soundtrack to my life, and yet the job has never appealed to me. It is difficult enough for me to search through old photo albums for that picture I so vaguely remember without becoming an emotional wreck of joy and sorrow as I recall the millions of moments that have created the lives of myself and those around me. To add music to those moments makes them that much more vivid and intimate. I'd be a puffy-eyed mess for days.

I've had Robbie Seay's newest album in my car, rotating through each song over and over, learning every nuance and letting it become my current soundtrack on my drive to work, yoga, SuperTarget or random social event. It brings feelings of release after a long day at work, when I've left early enough to just miss the evening traffic, instead traveling home at a brisk pace, with the windows rolled down and singing of Christ's return.

What strikes me each time I hear it are three notes in one particular song. Three notes. But the progression is eerily similar to those in a old favorite song by a band called, The Kry. Now, I've done this my whole life, I guess. But I have a tendency to run a CD into the ground by playing it over and over until I nearly forget what other music sounds like. And after I came home from my second summer of Camp Esperanza at the ripe age of 11 years and 11 months, I listened to The Kry every second I could and cried about missing my friends at camp and feeling sort of lonely for being back in a world that didn't quite understand me like this new one did.

And while I'm creating new memories and adding new songs to the 100-disc CD set that could be the soundtrack to this life, I'm so easily tossed into an old world. A world that seems very long ago, very different and set apart from the one I occupy now.

And all it takes is music. Just three notes.