this morning i remembered…

just how much


hated jazz.

i can remember countless evenings…

she would

come home from

work, walk into the

house, hear the screeching,

free-jazz horns of

ayler or late coltrane or brotzmann or vandermark or evan parker

or any of the 700+

jazz records i own,

and (attempt) to

yell over the music,

“turn this shit off!”

but she didn’t just hate

the avant garde shit.

she hated it all.

that never stopped

me from playing it.

but i remember

that one day,

a day that i will

never forget,

when she said to me,

“i really, really like this song.”

i paused the

song and said,

“excuse me?”

she looked at

me with that smirk

that said she

was guilty of something

(i now see that same smirk on maddy’s face every time i catch her coloring on something she shouldn’t be).

“yeah, i know. but i really do like this song.”

i’d been working on

her for 12+ years,

and here it was,

nine days before

she died,

that i actually got

through to her.

we listened to

that song quite a

few times

over the next

nine days.

and when it came

time to

choose music for

her funeral,

i made sure that

this song made the playlist.

why do i write

this today?

because the song

came through

the speakers of my

car minutes after

i dropped maddy

off at daycare.

i haven’t heard it

in at least a

year, but i haven’t

really heard it

since that saturday in march.

that day,

it reminded me

of all of this,

and it made me

appreciate the fact

that we were so different.

and today, stuck behind

the highway patrol car

on the 5 and

then the 134,

i remembered everything

again, and i smiled.


i love this song.

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