M. Suzanne Terry

(Sunday Kind of Love – sung by the incomparable Etta James)

Music was my first art. Of course, I toyed with crafts and drawing and stories from the time I first learned to hold a pencil, but no more so than anyone else did. Music was the first art that was mine. I didn’t choose it – it was important to my mom that both my sister and I learn to play piano – but it was the first one that I wept over. I remember struggling through a difficult section, tears running down my face in frustration. I remember having sore fingers from playing harder and louder, not because the sheet music called for it, but because I was throwing all that angst into the piece. I remember the unfiltered joy at getting it right. I remember watching the timer that kept track of my hour of practice, willing it to move faster, when inspiration was dry. I remember leaping to quiet the timer before Mom heard it when it rang before I was finished telling my life to the keys.

Some days, music is the thing that leaves me in need of therapy. Other days, music is therapy. Either way, it drives me to create.

It’s no surprise to anyone who knows me that I have a playlist for everything. If something is important – if it’s going to be real to me – it will have a soundtrack. This week, I’ve been working on my playlist for Feast. It’s a compilation of my favorite songs to hear when I’m cooking, particularly when I’m cooking for other people.

It’s no coincidence that I’ve cooked more this week than I cooked all of last month.

Whenever I hear Sunday Kind of Love, I think of the same thing everyone else thinks of – finding a lasting love. That’s what the song is about. But I also think of the moments I already have in my life that are Sunday kinds of love. Friends. Feeding people. Welcoming others into my home. Inviting others to the table. Being connected by common experience and interests. Being captivated and challenged by differences. These things are eternal.

They’re love that lasts forever.

(Another one of my favorite renditions – Beth Rowley)