"A long, long time ago," your mom sang softly. "I still remember how that music made me smile." Yelena pulled you closer to her chest, allowing you to feel its gentle vibrations. "And I knew if I had the chance," she continued singing. You sat drowsily in your mom's arms, struggling to stay awake for your favorite song. "That I could make those people dance."

It had been just another day when Yelena first sang to you. Another sleepless night had struck both of you, and you were completely miserable. Your mom had loved to sing as a child, though upon arriving in the red room, she was punished for every sound she made. From then on, she hated her voice, hated singing. She swore she would never be the kind of mother who sang you lullabies, but on that particular night, she couldn't find a way to soothe you. So she held you in her arms and sang the one song she would never forget. And you loved it.

“And maybe they’d be happy for a while,” Yelena continued singing as she gently rocked you, “but February made me tremble with every newspaper I delivered.” You loved those moments with your mom, and I admit that sometimes you had crocodile tears just hearing it. But Yelena never complained, even though she noticed your performance. “Bad news at the door,” your mom continued as she settled into a nearby chair. “I couldn’t take another step,” she sighed as she reached for the nearby blanket.

Your eyelids grew heavy as the melody continued. “I don’t remember if I cried,” Yelena gently ran her fingers through your blonde hair. “When I read about his widowed bride,” she began to sing more quietly. “But something touched me deeply,” she whispered as she leaned in to kiss your forehead, “the day the music died.” You couldn't hold on much longer, and you knew it. So you didn't complain much when Yelena moved you to bed. "Goodnight, Miss American Pie. I love you," your mom said as she tucked you in and handed you Natty Bear.