When I was a young adult, my older brother gave me a record of piano music called “Autumn” by George Winston. With it he wrote a letter describing our life living in Maine as teenagers.
The words in the note were as descriptive as the music on the album. It became the soundtrack of those beautiful amber color days.
At the time, living in Southern California, I had to go to the mountains to feel the fall, so I did.
When I was working through pain and crisis in my life, I would drive the windy road to a place I loved to sit and take in the calming trees. All the while the notes would ring out through my car and into my soul.
My brother has been gone for 24 years now. He never truly knew the beauty he left for me. The love tied up in music and woven through a season of change. He just knew that he was giving a gift.
As a mom, I have always hoped that long after I leave this planet, the words I say would be music. The deeds that I have done would be comfort. The memories I make would plant beauty in the hearts of my children and those around who will be here to reminisce with them.
The other day, while heading to an appointment, my older daughter hooked her phone into my stereo, flipped through her music app to play us a familiar piece. That gift given to me over thirty years ago is still bringing joy and peace.
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