Dear Charlie,

Today we visited your Lola and Lolo in Daly City.  As usual, the moment your Lolo saw you, he asked you what you wanted to eat and which show you wanted to watch with him.  You went through the On-Demand list of shows with him and I left you both to enjoy your time together.

I was feeding Baby Jack in the kitchen when I heard the first few cheerful notes of the opening ditty of what used to be your favorite show, the Backyardigans.  Those very few notes were all it took to transport me back to our old house on 53rd St., in our family room with the purple wall and big windows, where everyday for almost a month I curled up exhausted on our red couch while you lay next to me, your eyes glassy from watching hours of Backyardigans episodes.  Those very few notes brought back a glimmer of the hopelessness I felt when I struggled to keep up with your two year old whirlwind energy, our two story house’s never-ending chaos, my legal office’s unrelenting workload, and baby Jack’s growth spurts in my fast expanding belly.   I stood transfixed for a few moments, remembering.  And then, as quickly and quietly as it seeped in my consciousness, the memory of that house and the time I spent in it faded away.  I went back to feeding Jack realizing that even though I spent many days of sunshine and laughter with you and your Papa and all our friends and family in that house, my body associates that house on 53rd St. with prenatal depression.   But even though they were dark, those days form an important part of my life and I’m glad that I have memories of them stored in my body accessible through the Backyardigans ditty.

I haven’t been listening to a lot of music lately.  (I don’t fully know why considering that some sort of music has always been part of my life.)  The fact that there is not much music playing in my life right now bums me out.   In the future, what piece of music will take me back to this time of my life when you declare you love me more than you love Spiderman or catsup, when you can’t sleep at night unless you’re huddled under my armpit?  As for you, when you’re older and I’m no longer around, what will remind you of these days when you’re four, wrestling with me (and Baby Jack) in the trampoline in our backyard, and the tickles and giggles we’ve shared?    It terrifies me to think that there may be none.

I don’t want this time in our lives to fade into oblivion.  So, music, please…