drumming

Sometimes you just need to hit something, especially when you have, as your father puts it, a kinetic personality. You may start out hitting with a frustrated passion and a pushed-out lower lip, but a smile soon settles in. It's quite satisfying having an audience as well.

Denis, who owns probably a dozen or more musical instruments, bought this African drum years ago from an old friend of his. This particular friend is a professional drummer, and played in an African drumming/dancing group that often performed at the ranch where I used to live and work, long before Denis and I knew each other. The group fit in well with the hippie-earthy vibe we had at the ranch, though I was rather ambivalent about drum circles myself. When this guy got married, his wedding was at the ranch, and Denis attended, while I observed the festivities from my tiny "elf-house" abode, neither of us aware, of course, that our future spouse was in our midst.

When we moved into our first home together as boyfriend-girlfriend, this drum was part of our bedroom decor. Now it lives in our son's closet, to be pulled out on afternoons when manic energy is running high. More than once this past week, I've been taken down memory lane listening to the new sounds of little hands pounding.