The Songs of Our Mother

Mom's Engagement photograph.

I still see her bent over her acoustic guitar as she plays for her own pleasure, sitting on a kitchen chair. Her youthful face concentrating on the notes her fingers deftly found as she strumms to an inner rhythm.

Mom and music are synonymous to me. Her voice singing out in the evenings after dinner dishes were cleaned and the house neat and tidy. She sang songs of the fifties and 60s, pop, rock and country western. She'd close her eyes and lilt out the words to a melody she'd memorized. She couldn't read music, but taught herself to play guitar by ear. She sang her favorite songs and she'd play songs from her youth.

Mom played and sang to her own acoustic accompaniment a Marty Robbin's song, " A White Sport Coat" for my litte sister who loved that song and she sang Van Morrison's song "Brown Eyed Girl." To me she'd sing "You Are My Sunshine." That song began playing in my head just the other day while I struggled with a battle of strep throat.

I draw upon the warmth of these memories and I wish that I'd have had Mom longer. The good things we're given can never be stolen from us. I need to just close my eyes for a little bit to see the sunlight resting on her hair and to hear the sweet trill of her voice when she sang a song with yodeling, which she did especially well. She was fully Arlene in the moment that her creative soul touched the surface. Yes, the good things remain if we let them.

This is my five
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