I am no scratchy old record playing the same line over and over

"Do you like Johnny Cash?" asked my cousin.

"Of course, I do."

Two cousins, from India, on the other side of the planet in a corner of the Pacific Northwest, talking about Johnny Cash.  A world away from our grandmother's life in Sengottai!

"How about opera?"

Cash and opera?  I didn't verbalize that thought.

"Oh yeah."

And then she brought them--vinyls. One Johnny Cash LP, and a twofer of "one hundred years of great artists at the Met."

"When I saw these, I remembered that you have a record player" she said.

I felt special.

I scanned at the listing of arias.  I recognized quite a few.  Some I have even watched.  I got doubly excited when I read in the content Cavalleria Rusticana ... I was reminded of the opera that I watched in Costa Rica. And, ah, those lovely ladies!

I was so tempted to tell them about the Costa Rica experience. But, I didn't want to bore them with my stories. "Hey, thanks so much" I said.

It felt like a long drive home. I am getting old for road trips anymore. Years ago, I could easily drive for hours and not be tired at the end. Now, I stop in between.  I wonder why other drivers race so maniacally, when only a few years ago, I was no different from them.  When I reach the destination, almost always it feels like I packed up a headache too.  Middle age!

I got the coffeemaker going--nothing like having coffee and a hot shower at my own place. Perhaps another sign that I am getting old. Perhaps am already old.

I placed one of the opera LPs on the turntable and powered it on. The stylus hit the groove.  First that hiss. And then the music flowed out of the machine and flooded the house.

The coffee was ready.

Life was too good to worry about the awful headache.