This was a weekend of memories. Memories from our present-day house guests, whose images, antics, and hugs always stay with me for days, but also memories from a time past when our family was young.
Over the weekend, old VHS tapes of our children's childhood and high school performances were re-discovered. A recent-past purchase actually provided the technology to copy the VHS tapes to DVDs and that is what SO spend much of his Thanksgiving weekend doing. Although we both had plenty of other tasks on our to-do lists, it wasn't hard to forgo those tasks and simply watch the videos of the kids. Musical performances of both 'kids' from junior high and high school proved entertaining, heart-warming and proof that they both could sing!
However, the heart-grabbers were the tapes that a former, stellar piano teacher made of each of her students. I can remember Marianna, her home-studio and the countless hours that were spent there in lessons and mini-recitals, many of which she captured on tape. There must be four to five hours of viewing - maybe more - with each and every minute a priceless picture of our lives as a young family. What Marianna did, twenty some years ago, is a gift - the magnitude of that gift just hitting home this weekend.
There are our children, seated at her grand piano, often in a home-recital setting, other times simply taped during a lesson. There are pieces that either I or Father SO played duets on with the kids and there are some selections with me on flute, daughter on cello and son on piano. The tapes begin when the kids were somewhere between seven to ten years of age and span a two-to-three year period. I can remember that when we moved away from that midwestern city, Marianna was one of the hardest parts of our lives to leave. Now I know why.
At first I thought it would be hard to watch images of when we were a nuclear family. I thought I would get all weepy and cry, but I did not. Instead I 'oohed and aaahed', laughed, and smiled, non-stop. There were memory glitches, unwritten tempo changes, the awkward but oh-so-cute mandatory bows and, bless Marianna's heart, she always made her students look at the camera and announce the selection's title and composer. There they were......our children......so close and real we wanted to reach out and hug them and never let go. (OK, now I'm weepy.)
As Father SO and I watched the tapes, we would say, "I remember that dress.", or, "I remember that shirt." It was as if yesterday had become today. Suddenly, our daughter appeared on tape, wearing one of my all-time favorite dresses ever purchased for her. She is about ten years of age and looking so captivating. I looked at Father SO and said, "I remember that dress." I stood up, went to the closet in my office, and pulled out a garment on a hanger. There it was! The one dress from her childhood that had meant so much to me I keep it close by. I fingered the fabric, gazed carefully at the dress and, for a brief moment, twenty-two years melted away and she was in the dress - back in grade school.
I know there are no do-overs in life......but I wish there could be.
OK, now I'm crying. Good tears, but my glasses are getting all spotted so it is time to sign off. Tomorrow I'll have to blog about steel wool, Scotch tape, or stain removers.....inert objects that cannot produce tears and emotions.
Ancora imparo
