There are days when I feel like I have nothing to say about my music.  I always appreciate and enjoy my music...I always remember when I couldn't play.  But some days are more meaningful than others. 
This is a day I really needed it.  Ron and the girls went to the car dealer.  Turned out I didn't need to sign anything.  We talked about the car ahead of time, used the internet, and I talked to a salesman, and Ron and the girls when they were there.  But I can't be at a dealer for hours.  This reminds me that in October it'll be three years since I've driven.  Driving is on my bucket list, and my therapists know that.  But not now, not today. 
So I'm here at home.  And I took out my flute, because I wanted to be absolutely sure that I played today.  I briefly thought about taking out some sheet music, but for a number of reasons decided against it.  And the music flowed - sometimes playing really is better than listening.   And playing what's inside of you, instead of what someone has already composed is better.  Instead of finding the song with the right lyrics, or even just a melody, my own fingers speak.  Staccato or not, high or not, slow or not, whatever...it just felt like a wonderful voice, my voice, my other voice of music....