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The more we stay the same.

In most ways!

I was somewhere in my teens, home on vacation.

My mother found me on the floor in my bedroom, crying bitterly.

Next to me, my treasured record player. Playing was One Fine Day from Madame Butterfly. Singing – Maria Callas.

Those 78 speed vinyl records were my pride and joy.

But back to mom. Concerned at my pitiful state, she asked,

“What’s wrong? Tell me!”

Between sobs I confessed –

“I’m crying because it’s so beautiful.”

My mother was a practical woman. Not much given to sentimentality.

She straightened up, looked at me and said –

“Well, if it makes you cry, stop listening.”

Those days we didn’t ”whatever” our parents. But from the bottom of my heart came the age old teenage complaint, thought, not spoken,

“You don’t understand!”

The teenager in me still cries when I hear some music. I probably always will.

And no, I won’t stop listening.

How can I live without that beauty?

Cyber hugs and Blessings All.


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