I was singing along to a song the other afternoon—Hero by Family of the Year—while sitting at the dining room table, drinking an iced coffee.
The house was still. The kind of quiet that settles in after lunch. My son and I had just finished turkey and ham sandwiches, and we were both just sitting there. Not talking. Just listening.
The Aura digital frame on the sideboard was slowly flipping through old family photos. My kids, younger. Vacations I hadn’t thought about in a while. Years that feel both recent and impossibly far away.
And that song—Hero—was playing.
If you’ve seen Boyhood, you know the moment. It plays at the very end, just as the weight of the movie settles in: all that time you just watched quietly pass by. It’s one of my favorite endings. A soft gut punch about how fast it all moves.
And in that moment, it landed again.
Not dramatically. Just honestly.
I sat there next to my son, watching those photos roll by, humming along to the music, and thought:
God, I love listening to music.
Why don’t I do this more?
It reminded me of this guy I met at a party recently—a drummer, totally into audio gear. He told me he always has music playing in the background of his life.
At the time, I thought that was cool. But now I get it.
Because when music is on, I feel more settled. A little more myself. It softens the moment. It helps me notice what’s right in front of me.
And that afternoon, what was in front of me was my son. A quiet room. A finished lunch. And a song that meant something.
Music doesn’t fix everything. But it makes life feel better.
More vivid. More grounded.
And that feels like enough.
“Know what’s enough. Build what matters.”
💡
🎶 Around the House – My Ongoing Playlist
Anytime I hear a song that hits—that makes me pause, or hum, or just feel more like myself—I add it here.
The name’s intentional. Around the House reminds me that I like having music on in the house. That life feels better with a little rhythm in the background. That the right song can soften a moment, stretch it out, or hold it still just long enough for me to notice it.
Inspiration isn’t passive. You have to put yourself in the places where it lives—whether that’s a gym, a baseball field, the woods, or a gallery. And when you do, it changes you.
We think the hard part of inheritance is dividing money. But the real challenge is speaking up before things fall apart—and living with the discomfort of being the one willing to do it.