This week there was a concert at the local elementary school. Each grade had a turn to shine, with my girls being part of the song Jingle Bell Rock. Another class sang a Christmas Round, with sections taking turns as they wove in and out. 

As per tradition, the kindergartners made everyone smile with their rendition of The Twelve Days of Christmas. Theirs is a small class, having been born the year of the Financial Crisis when getting pregnant seemed risky. But their cuteness was not diminished by low numbers. 

I spoke with a woman whose son was one of the cuties. She held her own baby, and recounted for me the memory of singing the same song in the same auditorium when she was six. How dear to see a custom come full circle.  

My own daughter sat next to me and when the sixth graders in white gloves performed Silent Night on golden bells I whispered to her. 

"Did you play that when you were in sixth grade?"

She smiled. "Yes. The same song."

It is not because we are curious about how the songs end, that we love to listen. There is little doubt that on the twelfth day there will be drummers, or that Silent Night will resolve on middle C. Yet none of us finds the knowledge to be a spoiler. 

We are all part of a circle, yet at different moments in life we carry new parts of the melody. It makes for marvelous music.