One of the things I love about music is the way in which it evokes emotions and feelings, and sometimes memories in you. There are certain songs and styles of music that, for some reason or other, have become associated with certain memories so that when I hear that song or type of music, I recall that memory.

One of those styles is the gentle and soothing sound of an oboe. This morning at work I was listening to the NPR member station here in Orlando, which plays classical music during the day, and I heard Mozart's Oboe Concerto in C-major. Immediately I recalled a childhood memory from nearly twenty years ago when our family still lived in Toronto. Sunday's would usually include going over to my grandparents' house for coffee and cake after the morning service. I loved the little house they lived in; there was something so cozy and comfortable about it.

There was a remarkable warmth to that home, and especially the living room. There was an old wood stove in that room. In the cold grip of winter, that wood stove acted as a sort of refuge. When we came in to the house, it was always burning, inviting us to sit around it. But it was not just the wood stove giving off its gentle, radiant heat. It was more--the conversation, family, the quiet and peaceful classical music in the background. But above all, it was the love, I think, which held it all together. For some reason, when I hear the sound of an oboe, it brings those feelings back of that time and place. The music has that kind of power.

That room, that fire, that music. One of my best childhood memories.