Movement

Our record player has been getting a lot of use lately.

A couple months ago I randomly chose a greatest hits album by Patsy Cline, and ever since then Oliver has been hooked, especially on “Walkin’ After Midnight.” He will request “Patsy Cline on the record,” and matter-of-factly announce, “I love Patsy Cline.” I find it sweet that a musician from the 1950s can still be admired by a toddler born in 2024.

The record’s rotation is hypnotic. Its mechanical motion, so simple and steady, feels especially refreshing in a hyper-digital age. Oliver drags a stool over just to climb up and watch it go.

Then the movement spreads outward.

The music pulls motion out of us. Part of our daily rhythm now consists of twirling and even marching through the living room to “Brave Strides Forward.”

I’ve heard those two songs countless times now, but seeing the way my toddler lights up to them never gets old.