Connections

 

I woke up with a Green Day Song in my head. Couldn’t get it out, so I summoned some help.

“Alexa, play Green Day,” I commanded.

Sure enough, that same Green Day song started coming out of the little black sphere sitting atop my grandmother’s old sideboard hutch. Instead of getting it out of my system, however, each Green Day song Alexa played left me wanting for more, and I found myself dancing around the room with my pjs on, the dogs attempting to follow me with equally nervous and excited tail wags. 

For some reason I wasn’t hungry for breakfast, but I wanted something to go with my cold brew.

There was leftover blueberry pound cake – dessert from a few nights before, so I sliced off a serving and popped it into the toaster, hoping it would hold together and not crumble apart when it popped up. Thankfully, I pulled it out in one piece and smoothed it over with some butter. I ate it slowly and intentionally, and in between bites I (politely) told Alexa to be quiet and grabbed my phone to begin my daily brain warmups. Wordle first, which I figured out in three tries, but Connections wasn’t . . . connecting, so I put my phone down and turned on the television, flipping channels to see if something . . . anything . . . would catch my interest. 

I settled upon an independent film, which I tend to gravitate towards, and like a good book, I was immediately pulled in. The setting was a charming little neighborhood in present day Brooklyn that made me want to visit, and a few of the music selections had me pausing the movie to listen again. One song in particular captured my interest, but it wasn’t mentioned on the soundtrack, so I recorded it from the movie onto my phone. The first few stanzas reminded me of another familiar song.  

“Alexa, play John Denver’s Annie’s Song,” I requested.  

I listened, and I listened again.

As a child, I remember listening to this entire album on the record player in the house on Sherborn Lane, and the view of the street as I looked outside the living room window.  I remember my mom playing this song on her flute, in between music lessons. From her teaching room in the back corner of the lower level, the notes and sounds would travel, filling up every space in our home.

After I finished watching the movie, I went back to Connections. This time everything connected. The brain is funny that way. Then, I went to the room in the front corner of the lower level of my house and sat down at the piano. I placed my hands atop the keyboard and as I played the recorded song from my phone, I allowed my fingers to wander, in search of the proper notes, until the song was completed. 

And I felt satisfied . . . 

except (and even though I still really wasn’t hungry), I felt the need for a taste of something. And I remembered the leftovers in the fridge. I pulled some out and warmed it in the microwave, and as I enjoyed the complex flavors and spices of the Indian food, I thought about the movie, and the music, and the memories, and the beauty of a day with nothing planned.