Hopefully you’ve had a chance to see the wonderful and insightful Pixar film, Inside Out, which premiered in June and is coming out on DVD in early November (already out on Amazon Prime Video).
If you haven’t seen it, feel free to skip this blog. But if you have seen it, I wonder if you might journey with me a bit in this blog post.
One of my dearest memories of my paternal grandparents was when their son — my father, a writer, teacher, radio host and speaker — bought a high-end microphone for his recording work. He first tested it on his family, gathering us around in his den to speak and share. We three young sisters just loved hearing our own voice and being zany, knowing we were going on tape. My parents, as always, were the anchors, the bookends, narrating and undergirding this and so many other memories.
And my grandparents decided to do what they always liked doing: sing a song.
Kathleen adored the meadow outside her house in Somerset. The rustling, the chirping, the sweet smell of earth whispered music to her. Her mother could see this and decided it was time.
That night—no bomb scare on the radio, no blaring overhead—Mrs. Driscoll put five-year-old Kathleen to bed with great anticipation.
“Promise me you’ll listen,” Mrs. Driscoll said.
“All night?” Kathleen asked.
“Until you sleep. Like you do with the sounds of the meadow. Don’t get out of bed.”
“Why?”
“If you do as I ask, I’ll have a surprise for you in the morning.”
Lisa Kirazian 