Time Machines

Yesterday, I was blessed.   I hardly even check the paper mail anymore, mostly because it is no different from what the land line delivers; a bunch of unwanted junk that I didn’t ask for and now I have to dispose of.  It’s a rare day something worthy arrives, but yesterday was one of them.

It was nearly dark when I glanced out and saw the manila envelope peeping out of the box.  I wondered if I had forgotten that I ordered something from Amazon, an online jungle of temptation that I have to say I hike through now and again. 

 

The package was handwritten with way too much postage on it, I know about that, when I want someone to get something but I don’t want to head to the post office, I just stick  whatever stamps I have on it and send it off with the proverbial “Lick and a Prayer” .  

I recognized the print in a heartbeat and sat down to respect the moment.  I had to smile, as I mused over the collection of beach music from Pine Lake and Myrtle Beach days, and then the Memory Lane Play list from high school, college, and the supposedly “adult” years.       

 Inside was a note, “wanted to share with you, some of those tunes take me back to when my mama, brother, and I were living with my grandparents in the back and upstairs over the country store they ran out on #1 Hwy.  I can still her her playing her 45's on that old record player, Daddy was gone then, and I was five, "I Can't Stop Loving You" by Ray Charles would play over...and over...and over.

What a gift of self, what a tender sharing.   Just the names of some of those songs tugged at my heart.  I didn’t have to hear them to feel that angst again.  

Suddenly, my evening wasn’t so quiet; instead, it was filled with music and emotion.  I was all ages and engaged in all things… it was an incredible voyage and a beautiful sharing. 

Thank you my friend.