by Chajuana Thompson

Created on: April 12, 2009

An excerpt from my forthcoming book entitled: "Why Can't I Let Go?: A Personal Discovery"

Remembering Innocence

I was always a sensitive little girl. Cherished memories when I was two years old and my mother and I lived in a four-family flat on the first level. I was sitting on the sofa in the living room listening to my mother's music. She had the most beautiful wood hi-fi system. It had a 25 "in" floor model television in the center, an AM/FM radio and 8-track tape player on the left, and a record player on the right. She loved that hi-fi, and had so many albums and 8-track tapes, and there wasn't a day our home wasn't filled with music. My mother would sing her wonderfully off key versions of all her songs, and dance, and laugh to the music. She entertained music as if it was her best friend; conversing, and sharing secrets that only they shared.

I was sitting on the couch listening to "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face", by Roberta Flack. I was overwhelmed with intense sadness. The melody, her voice, and the delivery, (I certainly wasn't old enough to understand the lyrics) made my feel weak, and sad, so I cried, and I couldn't stop.

My mother came out of the kitchen and asked "What's wrong baby?" "Why are you crying?" I wasn't sure, but I knew that song was sending me to a place of stillness that I didn't know how to react to. I told her; "That song is sad Mommy, Why is the lady so sad?" My mother smiled and tried to describe in the best way possible to a two year old that she is singing about a moment where she fell in love, and how beautiful it was. I didn't get it. I just think that was the moment that I begin to believe that love hurts and brings feelings of grief. I misunderstood it then, as I often still do at forty.

My mother walked over to her most prized possession, and took that record off. I was immediately relieved, but I still couldn't move because the essence of that song had drained a portion of my youth. My mother put on an upbeat Temptations record, and pulled me off her sofa, and danced with me. I begin to let that song, and my mother's infectious love of music return me to the giggling, happy, innocent little girl I was then.

"You feel better now baby?" My mother asked with some obvious concern on her face. I responded; "Yes Ma'am, but please don't play that song again Mommy". My mother looked at me not quite understanding where such an intense request was coming from. "OK baby, but you will understand the song when you get older." She never played that song again when I was around. I think of that moment in my childhood, and would love to tell my mother that she was right. I do understand the song now, and completely appreciate the beauty of the sound and meaning in it. I would also tell her that I still cry every time I hear that song.

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