When what isn’t present, gently presents itself, it’s a surprise. It’s a present. During the holiday season that happened two times, both in a church, both when a choir sang Ave Maria, a hymn Mom had sung on rare occasions when courage overcame her timidity at family events during the 1960’s.
It’s futile to write about music because sound doesn’t translate well in words, at least not by me. But it would be cowardly not to write about the power of sound to summon a moment that isn’t bound by time and isn’t encased in space.
During a wedding, the singing of Ave Maria catapulted my self back to a time years ago and far away. During a holiday service, the singing of Ave Maria transported my Mom from heaven, where she now resides, to the pew where I was sitting. She sat there, too.
Emotions got the best of me. That is, the best of me surfaced. I cried. I didn’t know any other way to say thank-you.