Beat it.

Not long ago, a friend and I spent some time at a family cottage and well, it turns out I'm a drummer.  (or not  - please hold)

My drum kit includes a certain size cottage cheese container and a variety of pots and pans.

Earplugs for my family.

And gifted drumsticks - they were picked from a tree near the cottage, and carved with my initials by one of my dearest pals.  I was thrilled.  Until each one, in it's own time, broke and flew across the room that particular weekend.  For the record, no one was wounded.

I began to remember that singing made me feel release and freedom each time I put my MP-3 player on and banged out the next tune. Next thing I knew I was banging out my frustrations, singing my tunes at the tops of both of my lungs.  Many involved left the room.

Today though, wow.  Today, said friend showed up again, and with not only grown up drumsticks, but drumsticks in a wildly perfect shade of purple.

I cried.  I'm hopeful he didn't notice that part.  Or that he did.  Either way, I'm grateful in ways I can't find just yet.

I'm hopeful you have drums to beat upon that make your heart remember to beat when things feel so tight and tough that there is no other way to express.

I bet my stix will remember.