Listen, she said. You will feel better Mommy. She wove a tapestry of music around me, filled the air with light and sound, joyful this moment, melancholy the next. She allowed time to pass. Fingers move along the range of possibilities. She didn’t wonder if it was good or bad, if anyone would care to listen. She didn't look at herself from the outside. Just played from within. I forgot my worries then, the pain this year has caused, the bridges I haven’t crossed. I watched the back of her: hair flowing, butterfly dress falling arms reaching for the piano. I don't know how to play but I know how to listen: To her strength in a gentle moment, To her confidence in my recovery Unknowingly she shares her courage with me. (While I question everything.) I allowed myself to fly roll wander heal with her fingers on the keys.