Seeking a constant

Hi Dad,

I listened to Tchaikovsky's piano concerto again today, on the train on the way into the office.

The gracefulness of it overwhelmed me, as I imagine it overwhelmed you many times. If there is a more mellifluous and moving piano piece in the world I have yet to hear it.

I admit to weeping again on LIRR. You were not a weeper in general, but I remember you losing it once at the end of Madame Butterfly at the Met. And again, slightly less illustriously, at the end of Phantom of the Opera :-)

You had the ability to experience music as an art, as a truth, as a beautiful constant in the face of daily life. I am not sure if you would have put it that way, but I am putting it that way for you...

I suppose right now I am seeking the same thing. All I want to do this weekend is see some paintings, something lovely. I am not sure what it's about - this craving and intense need for beauty - but I suppose I am seeking some kind of universal constant right now.

Maybe Keats was right, and "beauty is truth, truth beauty." I am seeking truth in the face of ugliness in the world, in the face of sorrow, in the face of day to day life that just doesn't feel right without you, in the face of daily routine that really gets me down. I got the ability to experience joy in art, in beauty, from you. I got the ability to find beauty everywhere outside, all around me, from Mom, who has never failed to comment on a group of lush trees or a beautiful color in her life. I am so grateful to you both.

Much love,
Megan