Menu Home

That’s Enough for Me

Even with the tape crackles and microphone muffles, the voice clarity lofting to high G’s surprises me. One viola note makes me cringe for a finer tuning. Otherwise, its deep resonance hums with Grandma’s piano, a Whitney baby grand given to her for her high school graduation. Her light-touch improvisations over well-known melodies transport me back twenty years to a sunny November Saturday where I perch on the edge of her piano bench. Balancing a tape recorder on his knees, Grandpa positions a small microphone towards me. Among many songs that day, I sing “The Lighthouse.”

If it wasn’t for The Lighthouse, Where would this ship be?

As we listened to the CD together, my nineteen-year-old said, “Mom, I think they are singing with you.”

I pressed my ear against the speaker.

Her voice harmonizes under mine. His tenor blends in at the chorus, one of his favorites. This recording is a Christmas gift for my mother, but they can’t help joining in.

Just like their support through that song, I realized I never soloed during my college and early married years.

Many things about tomorrow
I don’t seem to understand
But I know who holds tomorrow
And I know who holds my hand.

Not long after this recording, I learned I was expecting my first son. The deftness of her fingers faded with her memory. His robust voice remained even as cancer shriveled his physique. Those Saturday afternoon teatimes continued as we tried to ignore distant rumblings of life’s vicissitudes.

Hold me fast, let me stand,
In the hollow of Thy hand;
Keep me safe ’til the storm passes by.

He passed on just after three great-grandsons entered the world in 2002. We lost her years before we lost her in 2010.

Some days I wish I could call them or stop by for tea. That we could sing those songs together one more time.

Hearing the music from that sunny November Saturday reminds me how much has changed. Including my range. Some days a high D can be a challenge, and I can gravel out a low C.

Some days–dark, stormy, lonely ones–I don’t feel much like singing.

Yet, I am still supported. I have it on record.

As she turns the pages, I hear her say, “Keep going.”

We did then. I do now. Forever never solo.

I can feel his hand in mine and that’s enough for me.


Categories: Musings

Tagged as:


From A-Z

Book Reader and Reviewer
Home Educator
Labrador Retriever Owner
Mother of Three Boys
Quiet Moments (a rare commodity!)
RV Camping
Singer in Church Choir
Wife of My High School Sweetheart
Yarn-Lover (the wool kind and the story kind)

2 replies

  1. Mom just read your blog during breakfast with Polly and me. We had a wonderful time of reminiscing and reflection. It’s going to find its way into my stories!

    Love, Daddy

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: