I don’t think I’ve told you yet. Every time I lie on my back and look at the ceiling, I become mesmerized. Lying down. On a couch or on the floor. Or on the bed. Looking at the ceiling disconnects me from everything.
Listening to Chip Taylor’s «F**k all the perfect people,» has transported me to a memory. Lying on my bed. In that room I shared with my brother for many years. Where the closet drawers were difficult to close, and the floor was a bit cold.
My mother liked to remind me the mattress was made of wool because I needed a special warmth to sleep better. Until today, over 20 years later, it’s still my favorite. I don’t remember much about the pillow. But I do remember the quilt. A large, green one. It covered the entire bed and touched the floor wherever you looked.
There. There is where I hit pause. Or not necessarily pause, it is rather where I become mesmerized. As if days pass without me moving. With hands and fingers intertwined. Short hair. Breathing calmly. It’s as if I can smell the quilt’s green color.
Spotify has released summaries of music listened to by each user during 2023. My list only showed Bach, Chopin, Mozart, Vivaldi. That’s what I listen to while I work; it helps me concentrate. I think this is what has connected me to that moment. To that memory. But I’ve added something to that memory. Some cassettes. And a notebook.
Alicia Benger’s notebook. Actually, mine. She was the music appreciation teacher at the time. To get a perfect score on the exam, you had to write down what she dictated in each class. She liked to comb her hair while we listened to a piece. Or while we appreciated it. The piece, not her combing her hair. Or who knows!
That notebook was a collection of stories about the lives of classical composers. Trying to memorize them, with the music and my white ceiling. With that soft mattress and the quilt’s smell, I fell asleep.
Ave Migratoria 