catching the tune

Oh sure, just knock off that terrific worship song like it is another apple pie. You know the one; that original and unforgettable tune that rocks in my head while I'm paddling up the Raquette River? The same one that accompanies me on my walk through the maple grove over the hill? The one that wakes me up at 2 am, fully orchestrated with backup singers and all? The one whose partial lyrics grace the back of a cardboard paint sample in my purse? Yeah. That one.
So three times now I arrange myself at the piano, sheet of blank paper before me, sharpened pencil at hand, ready to put this baby down for posterity. If not for posterity, then for me, the one who has an exceedingly feeble musical memory. (I really do. I can learn a new song in Sunday service, come home, and with my best efforts, can't remember past the first three intervals...)
I tinkle the ivories a bit. I sit. I fudge. I finagle. I flip out.
It's gone. As elusive as catching a slippery fish with one's bare hands.

I made a promise to Friend #7 on the way to the airport last week.
"When you come home next week, I will play three new worship songs for you."
What can I say? There is something about Friend #7 that makes me feel I can do amazing things. (It works both ways. She blames/credits me for some of the amazing things she has done.) I am attempting to back up these bold and reckless words with the goods but this elusive tune is wearing out my patience. Maybe if I play and sing with abandon, it will sneak up on me and I will catch it before it scoots away.