Close my Eye

When I close my eyes and let my mind wander to think of the music that made me feel, some moments in life come to the forefront of my mind. I can hear the music as I realize the moments. I'll try and write about each one in chronological order, but the truth is each memory, the sounds and feelings, flutter past my shut eyes in discernable order.

The first song I remember is my Papa singing in the Good Old Summertime as we walked along the trails near his home where we would play hide and seek, and he would tell me stories of the “Indians” that used to live there.

I'm watching the Greese Musical with my Mom. Loving every single moment as she belts out “Summer nights.” I'd later re-enacted all the scenes and songs with my Barbies.

I'm sitting on the bench in our unfinished basement, talking to my Dad. He has his wrestling belt on and listing gloves. He's playing his Def Leopard cd on this sound system. He controls his breathing as he lifts the bar from the floor over his head. “Pour some sugar on me...” I'm pulling the weight bar down and letting it pull my arms back into the air, plunk.

I'm looking out the window with my Dad. We're waiting for my Mom to come home from work. We made supper while waiting for Her and watching Soap Operas. It's Friday, and Dad has picked up wine for her. I see her blue Toyota Matrix turn the corner onto our street. Her sunroof and windows are open. I can hear the sounds of Honky Tonk Woman coming loudly from the car. We smile at each other and slink back to the kitchen. We pretend we have not been waiting for Mom to join us. Dad pours her a glass of wine as she comes through the front door singing.

I'm swinging on the monkey bars. The sun is setting on the horizon, and I'm playing “grounders” with my girlfriends, hoping the cute boys who live nearby will hear us and come out to play. Our mothers recently took us to see the new Charlie’s Angels movie, and we are obsessed with the scene of Cameron Diaz shaking it to Sir Mix Alots I Like Big Butts. I've memorized every single dirty word and sing them proudly, feeling so very cool.

I'm in Junior high, and I'm at my first school dance. I came because a certain boy had invited me. I'm wearing a white linen skirt with a pink T-shirt and bangles. He comes over and asks me to slow dance with him. I hear the other girls laughing because I'm a grade ahead of him. We only dance for a second before the Cha Cha Slide comes on. Everyone begins dancing, and they know the song and the dance that goes with it. I don't know either, but I pretend and do my best.

I feel the smile on my face and the sun shining on my cheeks in the high school as I wait for the bus to come listening to the loudspeaker system play the Friday song, Black Betty.

I'm driving to the beach, and it's the first summer I have my license. My best friend is in the passenger seat, the windows are down, and my hair is blowing in the wind (not his, as he kept his head neatly shaven that year). I'm forcing him to listen to Dirty Dancing Havana Nights Soundtrack. He's gently complaining but smiling at me as I sing Shakira’s Dance Like This.

I'm in a bar, drunk too much and just thrown up in the filthy washroom. Another girl offered me a new toothbrush she had in her purse. I'm dancing to the band playing Barretts Privateers. There is a guy from my class there, and I want him to notice me. At some point, I felt I was too drunk and needed to go home. I stumble outside, and the bouncer hails me a cab. The driver tells me a young girl shouldn't be out drinking alone. He makes me feel uncomfortable and scared. He tells me if I get sick, he will leave me on the side of the highway. I stay quiet and still and hope he takes me home.

I'm on a bus coming back from an away lab at University. I'm sitting next to my new boyfriend, and I'm happy. He holds my hand as he jokes with our friends. I'm tired and have my head resting on the window. Sweet Caroline comes on the radio. One friend begins to sing it to me, and the rest of the bus sings with him. I can feel the heat in my cheeks. I'm unsure whether I should sing too, smile politely, or ignore them. I'm not too fond of the attention and feel relief when it ends.

I'm dancing with my father; we're practicing for the wedding. My future husband and Mother look on, and a Billy Joel song comes on; She’s Got a Way. They all agree this should be the song I walk down the aisle to. They say kind things, and I'm embarrassed. I worry if I walk down the aisle to such a flattering song, people will think I'm full of myself. But they said it was perfect, and I felt loved.

I’m pregnant with my first child. My husband and I took prenatal classes. We learned different birthing techniques and made our birth plans. We decided I should meditate daily to calming meditation music, Growing Life, from the Pregnancy Music for Relaxation album. Then we would play the music during the birth, and our daughter and I would feel comfortable. My memory at the time was full of love, excitement and feeling cared for. But now, when I think back, I feel only sadness. Her birth did not go as planned. Years later, I feel nauseous thinking of how happy I was and how quickly our lives changed. They did not follow the birth plan we carefully constructed.

I'm drinking red wine in the backyard of our home. The sun is setting, and I'm finishing a huge steak. My husband is holding our second daughter in his arms. She's eating steak and loving it. He's feeding the little pieces she can chew with her few baby teeth and gums. The song Eloise by Hollerado comes on. We are singing together. Our baby is giggling, and our dogs are lying quietly beneath our feet.

I close my eyes. It's the day before Mother’s Day. Im lying alone with the bedroom door locked. My headphones are covering my ears. Tears stream down my face as I listen to the Dixie Chicks Lullaby. I sang it to my daughter to comfort her before she died. The weight and pain in my chest are excruciating. How long do you want to be loved? Is forever enough, is forever enough...

There are more; the playlist of my life is easy to conjure up. There are so many memories, all linked to music. I think, like many people, strong senses create memories, and memories hold my senses. All I need to do is close my eyes, and one appears with all the feelings and emotions of that moment. It's a dangerous game because I'm unsure which one will arise.