Baa’s house was all bursts of purple and sunshine. The back room TV screened nothing but old Disney cartoons or classic black and whites, while she sat front-room-piano-playing with Pappou in the big chair beside her and the family gathered ‘round. The noise of all of us storytelling on top of one another mixed with the music from her fingers to the keys like lyrics to a melody. 

Over and over and over again, and the record never broke.

Some songs stay sweet no matter how many times you play ‘em. 

Purples might fade, houses might empty, Baas and Pappous might get called home, but the music she made … the music of us that spanned 60+ years and poured out through the front-room window and onto the grass behind the brick wall where, between the stones and the walkway to the front door, a tiny burst of purple still stands tall and proud today … that music, her music, is just as loud and clear in the now and here as it was the very last time I heard her play.