Thursday, July 15, 2010
One evening, after a swim lesson at the YMCA, I was driving Miss C home and she passed out in the car, smelling heavily chlorinated, wet curls plastered to her head. I was listening to a CD I'd just gotten at the library, some music of Susan Tedeshi. There is a version of Angel from Montgomery that she sings, and it was on this particular CD. As the song ended, I heard a squeak from the backseat, "Again."
I looked back to see a sweaty and bleary eyed child who had wakened. I turned off the music.
"What's that, honey?"
"Again, I want the Angel song again."
So I played it again.
And she asked for it again.
Seven times in a row we played the song, sitting in the driveway, we played the song. Until she was done.
And then the questions:
"Who sings this song?"
"Does she know Cinderella?"
"Does she live in Montgomery?"
"Is she an old woman?"
"Is she an old man?"
"Why are there flies in the kitchen?"
"Why does she have nothing to say?"
For weeks we listened to this song on repeat, and though my particular favorite right now is People, Miss C continues to favor "Susan Deski and the Angel song."
This was demonstrated fully one afternoon when I heard a hollering that scared the bejesus out of me. I ran to the living room to find Miss C, holding her cousin's borrowed play guitar, screaming out, "I AM AN OLD WOMAN!" She had set up stuffed animals around her, and when I entered the room, she finished bellowing out the song, then looked at me like, What?
"I'm having a concert," she told me, looking around at her attending llamas.
It's been so handy, this lately developed obsession C has with Susan, because when she gets to the 27th question about how old is she? Where is she now? Is her hair long? And WHY ARE THERE FLIES IN THE KITCHEN? I can look up some of those answers and share what I find with C. Because Susan exists. As to the flies in the kitchen, however, all I can say is, the woman plays guitar for a living. Cut her some slack.