I had many adventures in the attic, but what I remember most was that music from another era. As a teenager I would sit near the small window that faced west, waiting for my laundry to finish the last rinse cycle. I would think about my Mother's far away look the day we listened to that old Victrola music. I would gaze out the window onto the treetops and rooftops of my neighborhood and wonder what she had been thinking about to look so wistful and melancholy. And perhaps I had a similar look on my own face.
Girls are like that sometimes.
No reason, really. She is a mother to three, step-mother to two and grandmother to one beautiful angel.