I don’t go to concerts anymore,

At least not yet.

Classical, I mean – real concerts.

It’s too hard.

Mom has passed on.


Mom has passed on,

But not before passing on her love

Of the concert hall to me.

My whole life, I watched her fill with that love,

Even if it was just a record on a turntable.


She would breathe deeply and close her eyes.

Her head would sway gently,

and then she would begin to conduct with just the slightest lilting motion of her wrist,

as if her hand was filled with helium and could not resist.


When she was young,

She sang soprano

With the Philadelphia Orchestra.

She gave up those dreams

To have us. Three of us.


Even when she was old and had lost most of the rest of herself,

She still swayed and conducted.

Sometimes I heard the music;

sometimes only she did.

She might get a little smile, like she had a secret with the universe.


So, no, if you ask me to describe how it feels

To hear a beautiful piece of music,

I won’t . . . OK?

Not yet; not right now.

Mom has passed on.


The WordPress Daily Prompt:

Describe what it feels like to hear a beautiful piece of music or see a stunning piece of art.