Thursday, October 15, 2015

Music Box Song

When I was a little girl (and even not so little) I would sleep over at my Grandma and Grandpa's house. They lived a short 15 minutes away and I loved it there. I know 'we' say it on these blogs we have a lot... "it's the little things that mean so much". And it's the little things about my Grandparents that mean the most. (especially when I slept over)

Like breakfast in the morning. She always asked me what I wanted the night before and she had it all out and ready. The egg sat out on the counter at night so that it would be room temp for the morning. There was toast and juice. And the egg cooked just the way I liked it.

Like helping my Grandma in the kitchen while hearing my Grandpa mowing the lawn in the back yard. Grandma would give me a tall glass of "tea" (she didn't call iced tea "iced tea". she just called it all tea) to bring out to Grandpa when he was done.

Like swimming the pool in their backyard.

Like watching old movies with them at night.

Like her music box.  She was a young girl sitting at a piano.  She had golden hair and she was playing a song on that piano.  When my Grandma wound the music box this song played. Humoresque by Dvorak.

She wound it up and played it for me from the time I was little to my teenage sleepovers. Always this music box.

On Tuesday night in group viola class Anna was playing a song. It was a review song, not one that she's learning and it suddenly hit me. It's my music box song.

(please ignore the tin sound of the room I recorded in and that phone videos aren't the best in sound.  And I would have moved for a better view than Anna's baggy shorts but if she knew I was recording she'd would have been spooked and never let me) 

I wish I knew the story of my Grandma's music box; where she got it. Or what occasion it was given to her. I don't know. But what I do know is how that song makes me feel.

For my Grandma her day to day life was simple. She didn't need big trips or big events. She was perfectly content and happy in the ordinary laundry, dishes, cooking, and caring for life that we all do. She just seemed to do it so well. Always unhurried and always with a smile on her face.

There are days that I think about my Grandma and try to be more like her. I wish I could be more gentle in my life; with my tasks and with those around me. I wish I could sit more like she did and appreciate the warm sun as she sat outside for a bit in the afternoon. I wish I could cook like her. I wish I could bake like her. I wish I could keep house like her. I wish I could keep life more simple like it seems that she did.

And then I realize when I make slowing down choices on a random Thursday for our little family I am just like her. When I cook and clean up with a smile. When I sit and listen. When I choose not to worry or let random thoughts circle around in my mind. When I'm present in each moment as mundane as folding clothes or as precious as talking with Anna, I am, in fact, just like her.

My Grandam held and loved Anna, and my grandma sent me my fiery red-head from Heaven. She knew her too. I know down deep she wanted me to have the blessing of birth. For all that she was, in her simplicity for me as a little girl and all that I let myself think about today, I am grateful.

I wish she could hear Anna play this song.

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