The opening scene from “About A Boy” always stirs something in me. I’m a people watcher by nature, just last night at dinner I was being not-so-nice to the couple across the way from us (I assumed they got up and left, where as they actually walked over to the salad bar). As I stood watching Jace go through security I felt like I could of stood there all day. The weekend wore us both out so I was numb to anything I was truly feeling. A girl walked by me dressed like she was off to work while carefully crying and patting her tears away instead of wiping. I watched her walk quickly away with her arms hugging her stomach. So many stories where around me and yet I could only make up in my mind just a taste of really why they were there. Hers may have been the same as mine or completely different. Maybe this is why when I travel I always seem to have to say something to the person sitting next to me (if they look approachable). Its not that the book I brought along isn’t interesting enough, I want to know the story sitting next to me more. I bet you could met some pretty interesting people who you have to share an armrest with for hours, but mostly we just bump elbows without every saying a word to one another.

Something that I learned over the weekend that is very different about Jace and I is our taste in music. Mind you, this was truth to our relationship already, but I actually kind of understand it now. I ask all the time Jace questions on what he thinks about things or why he did something (whether good or bad). I need to have a grasp on why he’s wired that way somehow. So when we got into a… how shall I say… heated discussion, as Share the Well filled my car, I need to know why he didn’t like it. It was fine that he didn’t, the problem was I didn’t know why. As much as it pains me to say this, he said it was wonderful music but then over it was a cheesy CCM voice. I gave him a dirty look and turned up the radio to squeeze some goodness out of that moment. What I found in that conversation was my key to our differences. It was that lyrics matter to me more so than the music. And to him music matters more than lyrics. He said that he like it when music doesn’t need words and can get across what they are trying to say or feel. I like that, though I can only take so much of no one singing when I listen to music. This comes partly to the different backgrounds we hold when it comes to music. He is a musician and I am not. He so sweetly bought me one of his all time favorite albums this weekend, which is all instrumental. I do feel smarter somehow listening to this new addition to my cd collection.

I realize this “needing to know” is kind of wide spread trait in girldom. Its not enough for the reason to be that it just does. Hence my endless questions to Jace about everything. To going outside of my skin and sitting down next to a person in the airport to know their story. Collectively, everyone at the airport is there for the planes in some form or another. There’s something deeper than that though, the story, which is what I want to know. When I don’t know, it what gets my wheels turning to why people do what they do or say what they say. But the eternal question is why .