Thank you for the Music

There are people who can bend spoons with their thoughts and others that can move or contort their bodies at speeds or in shapes never seen before. My self-proclaimed superpower is somewhat simpler and less showy.

I can remember songs.

I don’t mean that I remember every word of a song or even the exact melody. When I hear a song though, I am transported back to where and when I was when I first heard it and who was hearing it with me.

My first musical memory takes me to a twilight hour, a faint smell of whiskey, being held by my father, my arms around his neck, swaying to the sound of the record player. Today, when I hear the raspy, instantly recognisable voice of Eartha Kitt, I am back dancing as ‘Just an Old Fashioned Girl’ and still ‘My Heart Belongs to Daddy’.

The chapters in between my first dance and the birth of my children were filled with so many sounds. There were choirs and musicals, where we moved from Oz to Anatevka as the beat turned around. Dionne and Whitney belted for breakups, Aretha, Madonna and Britney were there to empower and Billy, Boy George, George and Lionel were just a few of the rhythms of the night. I wonder just how much time was spent with my fingers paused and poised on the play and record buttons waiting for a song to add to my tape collection.

Music calmed, comforted, guided and inspired me and somehow with my superpower I managed to file these sound snippets in my mind as neatly as I imagine Apple Music does, but without the use of complex algorithms.

Sound was suspended and my world stopped momentarily when I learnt that my beautiful, ‘perfect” first born daughter was born with ‘imperfect’ hearing. One of the hardest parenting lessons I had to learn then and quickly, was to put aside my own sadness and worry and be ok so that she would be ok. Well intentioned suggestions of solace including “at least she is a girl and her hair will cover her ears” were blatantly ignored as my little girl stepped on to the nursery playground with her aids, her head and her ponytail high.

Thankfully she has heard it all.

She has flown forward, a diligent listener moving to her own internal rhythm with hair longer and lighter.

Musical instruments, tour bands and live concerts are all part of her life and she has the added advantage of streaming sound directly into her ears and switching off to some unpleasant ones.

I have accompanied her to every single hearing test and while I have never been one to stress over academic assessments, I hold my breath as we sit in the sound proof cubicle together.

I turn away from my daughter so as not to distract her and I close my eyes. As my ears strain to hear the sounds that she acknowledges with the click of a button, I can see the near infant who turned to face the drumming teddy and the little girl who placed a marble in a box each time the computer beeped.

Finally, I hear that her audiometry results are stable and each time I hear it, it is like music to my ears.