Like Whitney Houston's 80's song, So Emotional where she sings,
"When you talk I just watch your mouth."
Rather, "When you talk I just hear the sounds."
It could be a spouse taking time to converse. It could be a child, grown or small recounting seemingly insignificant bits of their day. Or an old friend dredging up shared histories; bringing to life experiences that seemed all but buried and forgotten.
In this case, it was the sound of her 36 year old voice. Lost once for 33 years, then lost for 3, and back again last week. Hearing her voice on the other end of the phone was truly...
Music to my ears.
She has a bubbling brook laugh (like the stream that flows outside my brother's Idylwild cabin) and a Southern California way of talking. At times there's a fleeting yet familiar inflection and pitch...Where have I heard that before?
A sound for sore ears ....soothing the maternal yearning I am too proud to admit that I have. I'm not that needy or grasping. After all, I have 5 wonderful children.
It's like Jesus' story (Matthew 18) of the shepherd who left the 99 sheep to find the one that was lost. Though we have the 99, it's the lost "1" we pursue, longing to know and make ourselves known to.
Then there is the wondering during the years void of communication.
Plaguing thoughts.
Was it something I said that caused the recent silent years? Was it something I did?
Hesitant to really ask and risk spoiling it all again, I just listen...and choose safe questions that hopefully, won't result in any more long periods of quiet.
Each phone conversation is like another verse, another chorus or bridge that fills in the holes of the story that occurred in those 36 years after I let her go, when I was too single and too young to offer a proper home.
So...let the music play on... the healing sonic rain...let it pour...
verse after verse,
chorus after chorus ....in a never-ending song that is such beautiful
Was it something I said that caused the recent silent years? Was it something I did?
Hesitant to really ask and risk spoiling it all again, I just listen...and choose safe questions that hopefully, won't result in any more long periods of quiet.
Each phone conversation is like another verse, another chorus or bridge that fills in the holes of the story that occurred in those 36 years after I let her go, when I was too single and too young to offer a proper home.
So...let the music play on... the healing sonic rain...let it pour...
verse after verse,
chorus after chorus ....in a never-ending song that is such beautiful
music to my ears.
