Saving Melodies

My good friend, Johnell, is hosting a garage sale to raise money for breast cancer research. She contacted me to see if I might have any children's toys to donate to the sale as she heard that toys in decent condition can meet a fair price. Without hesitation, I agreed to help her. I figured it was a win win - she'd have toys for the sale, and I'd be able to de-clutter our playroom. And in the end, if the money she raises gets us a step closer to a cure - then many of us win.

I was a Junior in College when my friend, Shirley, lost her battle to breast cancer. It was a time in my life that changed who I was as I realized that life wasn't fair -- that sometimes prayers were not answered --- that sometimes there just weren't answers to the questions in your head. I always felt - I still do - the need to do something to help the fight against breast cancer. But, I always feel paralyzed when I try to do something. The memories of that time in my life - although almost 20 years ago still are so vivid. My anger, my sadness, my hopelessness still linger despite the many blessings that have fallen on me throughout the years. I always admired that work my sister did as an OT working in a lymphodemia clinic with women with breast cancer. I felt that each touch she gave, each piece of knowledge she shared with these women honored the lives of those who lost their fight by giving strength to those still battling.

Tonight was my first attempt at giving something back. It may sound silly to think that four bags of toys, a double stroller, one twirling whirling garden, and a bouncy seat would mean much - but to me - it is a start of trying to help with something that is larger than any of us really know. Its impact is deafening with each beat of our heart as a woman who fears this fate not only for herself, but also for her young daughter who at five seems to have so much life yet to live.

It took me about two hours to go through just one side of our playroom. The recent acquisition of a WII allowed me a couple hours to do this task while my husband played with the kids before putting them to bed. I am not sure what Dr. Spock would think about the virtual boxing match between Dad and daughter, but I figured that there was no use in making it a concern seeing as Emme has a damn good left hook and was able to knock her Dad out. I am contemplating perhaps using the WII to resolve sibling disputes - you know - just have the kids box it out and whoever is left standing can decide if it is Jimmy Neutron or the Little Einsteins that they will watch on TV. I think Shirley would appreciate the humor that went into my thinking as I rationalized a clearly unorthodox situation until I was content with the outcome.

And so as I left the bedroom to take my time alone in the basement, armed with only my new iPod (thanks Kim!) and a desire to de-clutter, as I opened the door to our basement, I thought about the many trips down to Shirley's basement when I worked for her as an assistant iconographer. I could remember the smell of the paints and the incense, I could feel the tips of the paint brushes and the smoothness of their red handles. For a moment - I was seventeen again and everything seemed fine with the world. I could almost hear her voice. She her last smile. I remembered the importance of her holding her hand for one last, sweet time.

I turned on my iPod and I transported myself to a time and a place that existed for no one and yet for anyone that I let into my thinking. It was the music that saved my soul tonight from remembering too much and yet allowing me to imagine so much more. The could have been's, the should have been's, and the what will be's ....

I wrapped myself in that music thinking about the past. I could hear Matthew's laughter the first time he sat at the twirling whirling garden, I could see Emme swinging at the toys hanging from the gymini, I could feel dents in the books that Nicholas loved so well, and I could see the outlines of the kisses that Lucas left on his mirrored toy when he first learned to kiss. Children grow up fast, but the legacies that they begin to leave create imprints on our souls that help us defen who we would like to be. And tonight, those memories wrapped within a soundtrack of words not yet spoken, feelings not yet shared, left me wondering about the future - about what lies ahead and what good will come of it ....

If we're lucky - it will be a cure.