I sat in a bar last night, my half empty beer ignored as the amazing talent that is hidden away in this town came out, stepped on a small stage and became stars. The music washed over me, washed away anything that had been there in the moments before "Georgia on my mind" was sent into the air, so beautifully intoxicating, it brought tears to my eyes.
I go back in time and remember my own songs, sung and stored quietly in the deepest recessions of my soul, holding onto memories I cannot ever let go of.
It's summers as a child hearing Conway Twitty sing of Tight Fitting Jeans and Girls Who Hasn't Been That Far Before. Songs that even now, decades later, cause my heart to race and my eyes to close, wanting nothing to interfere with the rough perfection of his voice.
It's playing outside in the summer, singing along with my little sister "Just a swingin'" . . . . our innocence still intact. The smell of Pine-sol and fried chicken. The country music playing in the background letting us know that mom was cleaning. It's still the only genre that is allowed when I decide to de-clutter my home . . . my life.
It's Plush, Linger, and Come as You Are ushering in music for a youth needing something of their own, something uncharted, even as it became more popular and mainstream. Music that caused us to stand to our feet and stand for something: Standing out. Even though, looking back now, we all looked alike. And right now, it's I Was a Teenage Anarchist that reminds me of the passion I had (have) and should live for.
It's You Had Me From Hello reminding me of a first love, first kiss, first time letting go, letting in, holding nothing back, sweat, kisses, tears, release. A song that playing over and over until I couldn't cry anymore when his hello became good-bye. The pain reminding me that I DID Feel, that I CAN Feel, that I need to, want to, am going to feel again.
It's Craig Morgan singing of Tough woman and the first man who saw me the same way, even at my weakest moment.
It's Amazing Grace . . . .how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. Even when I feel beyond saving and the closest I feel to God is the summer winds at night, caressing my face. Reminding me that maybe, just maybe, I'm not as alone as I think I am.
It's Beautiful Disaster and arms around my waist, pulling me closer, begging my heart to open. And it did, one step, one night at a time and even now, the song causes me to smile, even though he no longer does. And it's Whiskey and Wine that make me smile and cry a little as I remember how we both lost our way.
It's the love songs we hope to dedicate to someone; the break-up songs we pray to God we never have to know. It's the songs that move us; slow us down or cause us to dance until the bright lights let us know it was time to go . . . for now.
It's the perfect song to sing along to in the car, as loud as you can . . . .
The tunes you hum because you forgot the words but still know the sound by heart.
It's the perfect song that causes you to grab a broom and dance . . .
And it's the song that gives you the courage to lean in for a first kiss . . . .hoping he feels the same and the absolute joy when you learn that he does and storing THAT song away into your playlist.
It's Etta James "I'd Rather Be Blind" letting you know, you can survive your heartbreak if she can sing about it. Even though the pain in her voice matches the pain in your soul, yet you can't get enough.
It's life, one note at a time, just waiting to see which song will be lived next . . . .
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