I originally posted this on December 7, 2007.

Music, when it’s really good, can move you – sometimes, to another place or time.

Across The Universe* by The Beatles is one of those songs for me.

It takes me to a nursery rocking chair before a brown acrylic tree trunk that reaches up the wall to lush green painted leaves that burst out, over and onto the ceiling of a sun-filled room where I am sitting with my baby – my Julia – resting in my arms. Her little hand is gripping my finger. The world outside is calm and still. Her eyes are searching my face.

There’s a pile of lullaby cds next to the radio to choose from, but it is this one I pick again and again for our quiet time together.

“Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns, it calls me on and on across the universe.”

Yes, this our song.

I sing to her.

“Nothing’s gonna change my world”

Those breathy words escape my lips, but my heart is whispering thanks for this amazing gift, for this child given to me to love, to nurture, to show the world to.

“Nothing’s gonna change my world”

I sing it again. It is a promise – a vow to protect her from anything that may steal her light – that incredible light she has in her. I reaffirm it each time I sing the words:

“Nothing’s gonna change my world”

Oh my little girl, who fell asleep in loving arms to the sweet sound of music last night – Mommy will never break that promise.

“Nothing’s gonna change my world”

If my life were a movie, this is the part where that song would play as Julia and I make the slow-motion walk to her Kindergarten classroom. It’d be intercut with flashback footage of the two of us in the nursery. And you would be crying. Unless you’re one of those less fortunate souls who hasn’t had the chance to love or be loved like this. Then, you’d be rolling your eyes. That’s okay, though. You’d find love one day. Because in a world where my life is a movie, everyone does.

Walking Julia to her first day at Kindergarten

I dropped her off at her classroom this morning and asked her if she knew what to do. She said, “Yes, but I want to hug and kiss you first.” I let her.

“Have a great day, Sweetie. See you after school,” I said casually and walked out of sight. Then, I snuck back and peeked until I saw her check in with her teacher. She didn’t turn back to look for me. Not even once. And I’m glad. Because she is ready for Kindergarten. Also, so she wouldn’t see me crying, because I am not.