My Soundtrack

a few of the albums Bro and I went through today

Recommended Listening: O-o-h Child, The Five Stairsteps

Some day, yeah

We'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun

Some day

When the world is much brighter

In the spirit of writing about things that I know, I realized that there are really few things that I do actually know.  I can say, without a doubt, that I know my dogs are happiest when they are eating.  I know that I have probably, and at times regrettably, consumed more chocolate than the average chocolate enthusiast, and that I will almost always be late.  I lack the ability to fold a bed sheet and bring clean clothes upstairs, but I am great at spilling pasta sauce on a newly washed shirt.  I can recite poetry I have not read since high school, but will not be able to tell you the name of a person I have met already seven times before and within the last year. 

What I am finding is that measuring life by things that I know can be a bit daunting, and so today I am trying to write and think about life in terms of things that I love.  For instance, I love deleting things from my mailbox, and the way my dog looks when she is lying in the sun.  I love the sound of Bro’s voice when he is waking from a nap, and the way Justin is so resilient in the morning.

The thought came to me today as I watched my son tapping out a beat.  In that moment, I hoped that perhaps he might share the same love of music I have found to be so sustaining throughout my life.  A song, like an old friend, can remind you of a dream you once had, or the moments you wish you could relive.  For me songs come in different hues, like the sun slanted across your floor at different times during the day.

I have been fortunate to have parents who saved so many of my things from childhood.  Chief among these were my records.  I recently brought them home, and Brody and I have been going through them slowly and lovingly. 

Today we broke out Candy Land, the record, and as I played it I felt like that girl now almost 29 years ago who believed that if she just kicked her feet high enough, she might be able to finally push away from the earth and live in a world, she felt, was without limits.  

When I was young, reality was gauged by the way I felt from one moment to the next, not by any unforeseen law of science.  When the sun was out I played, and when it went away I slept.  When clouds covered it I hid inside, and when it broke through, I ran back out into its arms.  I didn’t know it was a mass of helium; I felt it was a friend.

Brody knows that I will come when he calls and hold him when he hurts.  He does not know what love as a concept is, but I think he knows its effects.  When he looks back upon this love, I hope that he remembers the songs I have offered him along the way.  I sing to him everyday at naptime, choosing from my collected songbook.  Today we started with nursery rhymes and ended with Bob Dylan. 

These songs have become the soundtrack to my life.  They are a road of hopes and dreams sustained and nurtured.  It is my genealogy.  It is a collection of songs that have been handed down to me, and ones I have found along the way.  My dad placed Rhinestone Cowboy and Folsom Prison Blues into it, and my mom is completely responsible for the show-tunes.  I don’t know what songs Brody will add to this playlist, or mix-tape perhaps, but I hope that one day Brody will look back upon this songbook, and know without question that he was loved.