On the Smallness of the World and Memories
Yesterday I went to help my mom with an estate sale for awhile. The random job I was given was to sort through a box of CD’s that someone had deemed “unworthy” of selling. Looking through them I found it was a cool eclectic collection. The lady’s grandson is a musician and had some live recordings of bands he’d opened for as well as other CD’s I’d had or have. The Pixies, Love & Rockets, Lenny Kravitz, Ray Charles, Brazilian tunes…
Memories of high school cruising, kisses in college…
And then-
I see a face I hadn’t seen in years staring back at me from a CD cover.
My friend, Peggy…
holding a plate of porkchops…
“Chuletas” the caption says.
A gift of music she’d made for someone?
Peggy passed away several years ago after a long and hard fight with cancer. Memories of her came flooding back like an unexpected gift.
-Meeting her for the first time at the library, both of us pregnant and large, hearing her speak Spanish to her daughter… I answered her and there was an instant connection of kids and women that didn’t fit the Southern Belle mold
-Her seeing my music lists and saying “Oh, we are alike.” She was funny like that.
-Playing at the Rivermarket with the kids, talking about the strange thing that was Little Rock at the time
-Talking about troubles in my garage
-Her funeral- the church packed with so many people that not everyone could sit down…
I bought the CD.
Haven’t listened to it yet…
