Amália

Photosource: Unknown

The wise normally teach their daughters to judge a man’s character by the way he treats his mother.
I’m proud to say that if my man’s character was weighed by this concept, there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind of the amazing man I know him to be!
We tried convincing his dad to take his mother out to a movie she was hoping to see about a fado singer who was a historical icon of their generation.
After failing to do so and knowing she would never go on her own, we decided to treat her to the movie whilst at the same time enlightening our ignorance on the subject.

In the small town cinema, all the old ladies were well dressed and excited to see the movie.
I love to see my mother-in-law smile, she’s so easy to please and I love to see her happy – even if the movie was dreadful, I was happy we’d brought her.

But the movie wasn’t dreadful.
A bit dramatic, I’ll give you that.
But for a Portuguese movie, I thought it was really good.

I didn’t know much about Amália’s life.
I knew very little about her music.
But I normally could tell it was her whenever I heard her singing.
Her voice and spirit are simply unique.

As I heard familiar songs, songs I didn’t even realise that I knew… I began to remember sweet moments long forgotten, that I hadn’t remembered in years:
“Casa Portuguesa”: Countless Portuguese weddings I had attended.
“Cheira Bem, Cheira á Lisboa”: The sound of mom cleaning the house in the morning
“De quem eu gusto, nem ás paredes confesso”: The sound of mom trying to piss dad off
“Barco Negro” The sound of mom’s anguish and depression each time we returned from an overseas trip to see the family.
The sound of “saudade” – missing someone like the deserts miss the rain.
They call “fado” the sound of suffrage.

Sometimes, it’s a bittersweet moment when we’re taken back to the past memory.
My only regret is having my parents too far to take them out to a movie.