the full soundtrack

I could tell you the story of Lazuli by Beach House, and how it saved my life at 19, but I fear that would be cheating. I’ve written it down before, did a speech on it in my communications class, and told it to my therapist.

I could tell you the story of Wonder by Natalie Merchant, how it played on the radio in the hospital parking lot the day before my birth. My parents wanted my gender to be a surprise, but my mom knew when she heard that song that 27 hours later she would have a baby girl.

I could tell you the story of Round Here by Counting Crows, how Prozac worsened my depression when I was 15, how my mom drove me to school, how we sang that one line loudly, how she told me that even if I didn’t believe I could survive one more day, she would believe for me.

I could tell you the story of Maggie May by Rod Stewart, how I listened to it on the way to church, how Thursdays became my favorite day of the week and how Classic Vinyl became my favorite station, how it was Springtime, how I was 17 and happy.

I could tell you the story of Tennessee Whiskey by Chris Stapleton, how I baked cookies in my big beautiful kitchen in my childhood home, how I listened to the song while I did the dishes and felt at peace for the first time in years.

I could tell you the story of The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert, how I walked through the neighborhood, past my elementary school and the swimming pool with my hand covering my mouth to hold in my sobs, how I listened to it the day I drove down 21 South, knowing I’d never come back and cook in that kitchen again.

I could tell you the story of Mother by Pink Floyd, how I sat outside the restaurant under the string lights hanging in the trees, listening to a man play a cover of a song I’d never heard before, how I felt okay in my new home state for the first time after three years of constant grief.

But instead I’ll tell you about Take Me Home, Country Roads, how it’s the only John Denver song that doesn’t make me cry, how they played it over the speakers at the end of the Hootie & The Blowfish concert where I wore my mom’s old t-shirt, how everyone walked together to the parking lot and sang a full rendition, how we all continued after we were too far away to hear the song over the speaker. How it was my favorite song of the night.