A memory from Josh

Josh sent me this message in an email yesterday. It reminded me how little memories can be so sweet, and also the power that music has to remind us of places and times.

"I'm listening to Beethoven's piano sonatas this morning. For whatever reason, whenever I hear the Pastoral sonata, I'm always reminded of the morning you moved away from East Lansing. We were in the Lexington house, and it was a warm, sunny summer morning. I was having some trouble getting up, and you threw this track on."

I was just talking with someone recently about this very topic, after seeing a rerun of an episode of "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" and being sense-transported back to this summer, with my living room dark save the flicker from the TV, my dog at my side, the windows open and the air sticky-fuzzy with humidity.

Similarly, I can probably never listen to Madonna's "Like a Prayer" album again without thinking of the trip that Mom, Josh and I took to Florida. The three of us in that little Mazda 323, and Mom so brave as to let me shift and steer from the passenger side of the car...