A Vinyl Disc and mom sings to me

In her humming, singing, listened to when I was a child, I felt safe with my mother. The same feeling is evoked today when she sings downstairs, or anywhere for that matter. Yet, back then when consumed with the desire to be ‘exclusive‘ to mom meaning no other siblings, it was all about us. In the motion of holding, comforting and singing to me, her sincerest actions offered ‘a sort of’ veil of protection, I shined. It gently wrapped around me like the blanket I held precious as she hugged and danced swaying to Delilah. I remember smiling more jubilantly during the beginning riff of the song, perhaps ‘awakening’.

Momma was happy, it was just me and her against the world when daddy would leave for the hospital to go be a really good doctor. When we had that phonograph playing, it was like nothing else mattered. Her voice would be the calming soothing beacon I sought when a moment was bleak or unforeseeable. It was then my avenue of exploration, for total understanding of obtaining tranquility, had been achieved. Music was to be the universal language, for me to use and appreciate, between everyone and everything that could grasp a lyrical journey into peaceful slumbers or ego-driven awaked-ness.

This appreciation came in handy later on in life when mom was not physically around to sing me out of worry, fear or trouble. I could use this song and any song she sang along to, as an inspiration to be my very best in anything I attempt to do. Recalling myself as a dependent baby, I cuddled in moms embrace while I learned about the power of song when unconditional love was challenged or reminisced over. “Delilah” is that song. It echoes with pain, betrayal, misery and loss. I wonder how much of the betrayal in “Delilah” echoed in moms mind as she stood in the doorway with daughter in her arms, while dad left to go out and be in the real world.

The song and especially mom singing it to me, serves as the can-opener for the channel to receive culture, grace and class in which Tamara could enlighten the very darkest of souls. I cried quite a bit as a baby because dad was so passionate with his dream of becoming a brilliant surgeon. But thankfully in the appreciation of music, my mother taught me a direction of creative excitement. I stirred restlessly but with gentle coercion understood patience is a virtue. I recall now feeling great, knowing mom and this act of gentle loveliness, was permanent. I would be blessed as long as I heard her singing from wherever she was, able to teach about love for a very long time. Bless her heart and my ears !