I woke up late the other morning. It was one of the first days off this summer from all three jobs in a long time.
My husband had long since gone to work and left the morning’s coffee grounds in the basket residing in the coffee-maker. A normal person would replace the grounds, but my stomach and nerves no longer tolerate strong java. I filled the coffee-maker’s reservoir with fresh water and moved the steam spigot over the grounds hoping the coffee would be a bit more diluted.
As I was moving the spigot, a case of deja vú washed over me. This simple act felt happily familiar.
Images of my childhood, waking up on Christmas morning to a new Monkees record with their picture pressed in clear vinyl made a smile appear on my face. It made me think of the first 45 that was officially mine aptly titled “The Curly Shuffle”, written in honor of The Three Stooges. It reminded me of getting excited on birthdays because new music was usually waiting for me between the grooves of the compressed lines concealed in a 12 inch by 12 inch cardboard sleeve. It reminded me of when the best songs were gifts.
It reminded me of when things were meant to be experienced. It reminded me of when music was like an art exhibit, you had to stay in the same room to be immersed in it. It reminded me of being able to take it easy, lie on the floor and get lost in the rythm and crescendos of the music. Now that music has become immensely portable, we seem to take it for granted.
Once the flashbacks stopped, I began to get ready for the day, thankful for that little “movement” making me remember a different time when I didn’t need to be powered by caffeine.
When have you done a movement or motion that reminded you of something completely different than what you were doing?