Henry sat on the hard church pew and closed his eyes, blocking out the world around him except for the hauntingly beautiful sound of the choir. He let his fears run away with the alto line, his worries plod along with the bass notes, his prayers found harmony with the tenors while is hopes and dreams soared high over it all with the sopranos.
A baby began to fuss in the pew behind him. His mother quietly whispered reassuring sounds as she rocked him back and forth, her melody gently mixing and melding with the words of the choir.
Henry’s hands rested gently on his lap, fingers intertwined. The strong thick fingers and rough calluses from years of hard work did not seem to belong with the finely pressed dark suit they were resting on.
The song continued to cascade over the congregation. Henry sat motionless, soaking up every moment, feeling more alive with every passing measure. As always, he wished it would never end. Here, in the music, he found solace. Here, his spirit was free, dancing, laughing, singing and ultimately disappearing into the sound of the singing.