I am here and I see you. You are sitting in your closet on top of a nest of clothes. You are wearing parachute pants and a pink T-shirt, pressing the rewind button on your boom box and listening to a song you recorded from the radio, listening over and over again. Songs are important to you. The radio is always on and you are always ready to press the play and record buttons at the same time to capture the songs that you like. Sometimes you get the voice of the DJ at the beginning or the end and it annoys you when that happens. But you are really pretty good about getting as much of the song as possible without the announcements. Anyway, the buttons are clunky and this is not an exact science. Survival is an exact science. And you are busy mastering some elaborate systems. Songs are part of that system. I want you to know that I see that. I also know that if I approach this too directly that you will pull all the clothes down on top of you, hold your breath and try to convince both of us that I am no longer here and that I can’t really see you. More likely though, you will imagine yourself doing that as you look me in the face, tell me you have no idea what I am talking about and ask me if I have a favorite song. That’s ok. As I sit here with you though, I do get the sense that you know why I am here and why I have come. I intuit some hope in you that I have come to help you set this place on fire, to fight for you, console you and keep you company. And I have. Your intuition is telling you to keep that hope hidden and small. That is your wisdom and it serves you well. So, for now it is good that I just sit on the floor outside the open closet and listen as you press play and rewind and play and rewind as many times as you feel like. There is one thing I really do want to say to you right now, so please listen to me, if you can. Plus, I think you will find this first part fascinating. Someday you are going to carry thousands of songs in your pocket on something that is about the same size as the silver dollar you carry around with you now. All of the songs you carry with you will have the clean beginnings and endings that you long for. One spring day, you will walk to the top of a hill on your own and listen as you look out across the city you live in. There will be tall buildings and bridges on the horizon and sunlight on your face. Some of the songs you listen to and love will have been written by your friends. And some of those songs will come from closets like the one you are sitting in right now. I say all of this to say that everything, everything changes. I promise you. But I also promise that you will always have songs. They will always be important. Songs are important to me too.