Circumstance can change everything and anything. Everything in this world is a product of circumstance, and Teresa Lisbon knows this more than most. Patrick Jane could have still had a wife and child, maybe even children at this stage, had it not been for circumstance. Had it not been for circumstance, Grace might have been married by now. For better or for worse- though most probably worst – Grace could have been married by now. Circumstance affects every iota of everyday life, and for Teresa, had it not been for circumstance, she might have had more than one clear, perfect, glorious memory of her father and her, together. If there ever was a victim of circumstance, Teresa's father was surely him. It was hard to believe now after everything that had happened in between, but he had been a good man. Until the day she died, he had been the perfect husband to Teresa's mother. They had been deeply in love, and the truth was he simply could not cope with a life without her. Roles he had previously held with pride were discarded: worker, breadwinner, and, most unfortunately, father. It wasn't that he didn't try, he had tried damned hard: he was just a victim of circumstance.
Despite everything however, Teresa had managed to keep one memory golden. She had long forgotten the detail – the clothes they had worn or the time of year- but she remembered clearly, the three boys, lying on their bellies on the kitchen floor, zooming and whooping as tin toy cars whizzed under the feet of their mother, hair escaping from the bun she had hastily attempted, reflecting her carefree nature as she dabbled round the fire and the pots on the stove. Their father had looked younger, more handsome then, she was sure. Teresa looked on this scene through the open door from where she stood in the living room. She stood behind her father as he knelt in front of the record player, fiddling gently with records and LPs. He was looking for one in particular but Teresa was distracted by her view of little Tommy begging his elder brother for a turn with the car. She could hear her father mumbling gently to himself and Teresa laughed. He laughed too and that caught her mother's attention and she smiled at them through the open door. Teresa was still beaming at her mother when her father put the record on. Her mother's expression changed then and she came in to the room with a smile solely for her husband. This song clearly meant something special and as the jazzy, soulful sound filled both rooms, Teresa lead the way into the kitchen as her parents walked behind arm-in-arm. Her father had danced with their mother then as the boys dashed underfoot until her mother collapsed, laughing and breathless into a kitchen chair. She had dished out their dinner as Teresa's father danced with he instead. He had twirled her until her mother told them to sit down and eat. As the six sat down together, the jazz continued overhead. From then on, she had always had a fondness for jazz. Years later, when everything had gone to hell, all because of damned circumstance, it had been Willie's record that had been her saving grace. There was no way she could have known that years later, she would save Willie himself from being another victim of circumstance. When she had stood and listened to him play, his first time in years, that glorious memory had flooded her mind. Records, tin cars, the smell of dinner, her mother's smile for her father, the colours of the kitchen in a spin as her father twirled her round, all in an instant. All that was gone now, no more happy family scenes: not like this at least. They had all moved on, been forced to move on, and Teresa had too. Too many of the memories she did have of the family together had been poisoned by worse memories of the actions of her father and their impact on her and her brothers. All except that one. That one memory was glorious; most likely flawed by years of remembering, but it was perfect too, and infinite, and hers. She smiled as she walked on. Things were different now, the family was split up all over the country, but she still had that one perfect memory. She loved Willie for bringing it back to her. She had always had a fondness for jazz.