What do you love remembering?
February 2, 2020

the YamahaA summer breeze floats into an auditorium on a college campus in Omaha. I’m old enough to have driven myself there, but young enough to be in awe of the setting. I’m wearing an orange cotton dress. I feel beautiful, even though orange isn’t really my color and feeling beautiful isn’t really my style.

There’s a grand piano on the stage, and someone’s practicing for the big event. I descend the stairs to my seat as a few other early arrivals do the same. I’m breathless with anticipation.

That’s it. That’s the extent of my memory.

It lingers because all of life spread out before me then. It felt sacred. Classical music dancing on a summer breeze? It became the soundtrack for the work of art I hoped my life would be.

Many years later I was at the library when a woman who lives a couple of houses down from ours told me how much she’d enjoyed hearing Katie practicing piano the night before.

Really? The sound carried that far?

Uncharacteristically I felt no urge to apologize. All I could think of was that summer evening I just told you about, long before I knew there’d be a Katie.

Someone once described a child as a love letter to a future we cannot see.

Something tells me that future’s going to be pretty cool.


This post was originally published on February 10th, 2014. At the time Katie said it was her favorite -- so far. Is that why all these years later, it’s still my favorite -- so far?