Last night I dreamt that I was unpacking boxes and organizing a house. I don't even have to look that one up to know that I'm feeling in greater control. I'm caught up w/ my grading and ready to submit midterm grades. I only need to get the girls' curtains hung and the inside of my house will be put back together. I'm in a good place. Now I can start getting the outside ready for winter.
I played the piano tonight. I mean really played it. For me. I wasn't accompanying anyone or being a rhythm instrument. I was playing Chopin and Bach and Mozart and Mendelssohn and Rimsky-Korsakoff for me. I haven't played most of these pieces in over a year b/c I haven't felt inspired to do so. Playing the piano was probably what Mom loved for me to do the most. When I lived in Texas, I made a recording of myself playing all kinds of songs: sacred, secular, classical, country, pop and sent it to her. She would set the tape recorder on the piano bench in the living room and listen to me play while she was in the kitchen cooking or doing dishes. She said it made her feel like I was right there in the next room. I wish there was a way I could play a recording now of her rattling around in my kitchen.
I have the bedroom suit that Mom and Dad had when I was growing up. Even now as I open the drawers to the dresser and bureau, the clanging of the handles against the drawers brings me back to the days when I slept in the bedroom just above their room. And I hear the muffled sounds of Mom and Dad through my bedroom floor as they talk about their days and say goodnight. I don't ever want to lose those sounds or sights or smells. I hope reading this blog again in years to come will help me recall them all.
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