I played it over and over while Jake stood awkwardly by. At one point, he disappeared, but then returned moments later with his bass. He played the aria through, first in company, then in counterpoint, with my mother’s voice. After that, it seemed natural to bring out her red wineglasses and toast her memory, and exchange our life stories, and, finally, to lie together on the living room rug while Mozart and my mother filled the room.