The people who spark fire in us can also extinguish it. The truth of that flashed on me when I came face to face with French sculptor Camille Claudel last week, once by accident and again according to plan.
Tuesday's mystery piece was Debussy's fourth prelude from Book I, "Les sons et les parfums tournet dans l'air du soir" (The sounds and fragrances swirl through the evening air), played by Etha Wheeler.
My daughter Johanna is living in Finland for a year as a Rotary exchange student. We stay in touch through email and Facebook and Skype - options unavailable and words unrecognizable to my parents 26 years ago when my sister went to Finland, also through Rotary. Johanna left her cell phone behind, but her info is still loaded into mine. I was zipping through my contacts yesterday and there she was. I paused and found myself actually touching her name on the little screen with my finger. Kinda pathetic maybe, but I do miss that kid. I guess I was trying to feel what’s not there, like when you lose a tooth and compulsively tongue the empty socket. Absence is felt. I thought of Debussy’s quote about how "music is the space between the notes."