Each time I play it, I experience six minutes and sixteen seconds of wonderment.
It’s funny that I would have been introduced to such beautiful music while watching a movie about contract killers for the mob. The movie was Prizzi’s Honor and the song is Ave Maria.
I don’t understand a word that’s being sung, yet I’m captivated by its splendor. The piano and the voice of the performer seem to have been created for this singularly beautiful purpose. I alternatively listen to two versions: one from the movie and a second version that has become my favorite.
Please sit back, turn up the volume, and listen as you read the rest of this post with me.
Listen here.
The music sets my mind to wander. I allow the sounds to take me where they may, as I type these few words.
I’m back at home with my brothers – running, playing, and laughing in ways that I haven’t done since. I’m thinking about tomorrow and the problems that will still be there when I wake from another fitful night. I’m thinking of snippets of life: love, sadness, joy, and heartbreak.
There’s a knock at the door and I’m brought back to the now. My daughter enters and places a plate on the desk – a skeptical eyebrow raised at my paused music selection.
“You like?” I ask.
She bites her lip, “Um”.
We laugh.
She leaves.
I press play.
I take a drag and exhale slowly. The smoke is wafted in its alluringly deadly dance. I watch it curl and dissipate and feel the sinfully pleasurable sensation of having mocked the Reaper one more time. He will win in the end, I know. But he won’t win today.
I’m holding her hand as she struggles not to push. Her grip is strong. Her nails are sharp. Freckles begin to dot her face in places where they did not exist before. One nurse encourages while another prepares. Her doctor instructs. I mumble as I try to repeat the pathetically useless words learned during six sessions of Lamaze. Her strong will is finally defeated by the pain. The scream is long and thick with distress. My knees feel weak.
I can’t really help her.
I realize that I’m no better than a bystander. There’s one final push, a gasp, then silence. The doctor hands me the scissors.
She’s taken away. The nurses hover over the child as she cries. They suction, wipe, measure, assess, and swaddle.
I can’t help her either.
They bring our child back to her mother.
The song ends and I’m back here with you.
Aren’t these wonderful gifts that we have been given? We have music that touches our souls, we can remember things so very vividly, we can choose what we do with our lives, and we can share the experiences of our lives with one another.
Be well.
Ray } – 
{ 6 comments… read them below or add one }
A love of music is one thing I am grateful my father gave me. Music touches my soul. It speaks to me. And, like you, memories flood over me when I hear music.
Yes, Tristan, music is a great gift, and even better when shared with a loved one.
For some reason, I’m reminded of a story. (I know, that’s shocking!)
I know a woman who sings very well. I’m awed by what she can do with her voice. She’s also well versed in the technical aspects of music. I can’t read a note. One day we were at odds as to whether I could appreciate music as much as she, because of her knowledge. I contended that that was a specious assertion because no person can say how deeply music touches another.
It’s like arguing over which one of us likes ice cream the most.
Ray
*** Sigh ***
I first encountered this piece as a little girl: It’s featured toward then end of the original Fantasia. I hear it and am transported back to the dark theater, holding my mother’s hand, watching the amazing animation. It was the first movie I ever saw in a theater, and it was another 10-15 years before I went to another movie with my mother. The music is forever linked to one of my most treasured childhood memories.
That’s a beautiful memory, Alicia. Thanks for sharing.
I’m glad that I, or more aptly, my mention of the music, could prompt a *** sigh ***.
When I read your comment, I thought that that was quite a long gap between theater visits with your mother, since I take my daughter to the movies all of the time. But when I thought back to my childhood, I could only remember going to a handful movies with my mom myself. Strange. I hadn’t thought of that before. Ray
I love Ave Maria. Growing up with a dad whose family is Italian & Roman Catholic, Ave Maria was sort of standard fair at just about every big family function – births, weddings, deaths.
What it is, essentially is the hail mary in latin and set to music. I’m not catholic, but I often sing this (not very well, either) when I’m alone…and sometimes a little blue. It has a very spiritual feeling, even if you don’t know what the words mean.
Hi Gracey, It is a beautiful song.
I didn’t know that it was the Hail Mary in Latin. Thanks for letting me know. You’re right, I am captured by the spiritual feeling without knowing what the words mean. It’s very soothing. I’m sure that I had heard it before it was played in that movie, but for some reason, it did not make the impression on me then that it does now. Ray