On hot days she sways with drapes drawn and lights low. With a baby on her hip, sweat glistening on skin, and her bare feet scuffling on the threadbare carpet she sways. Her movements alone a lullaby, but accompanied by 45's, a masterpiece. Otis laments with his trumpet from the dusty speakers. Love. Loss. Heartbreak. All accented with the incomparable crackle of well loved and overused vinyl. The song ending gently transitions into the telltale thump and scratch and she ceases her swaying. The baby starts awake and whimpers so she lifts the needle again to the center of the 45, and again she begins to sway.
(This is how my mother swayed me to sleep until I started going to school.)
Created: Mar 27, 2011starkjanus Document Media