My life's soundtrack

Have you ever heard a song that you feel? Not just with your ears, but inside your body. The notes, the beat, the harmony move through you and refuse to leave. Some music makes your heart beat faster. Some slows it down. Some won’t let your body sit still. Other songs dive so deeply into your soul that they become part of you. You cry, smile, dance, or exhale without even realizing what is happening. Music provides color to scenes or lightens the dark. It can transform a memory, a day, or even a life.

Music in (almost) all of its forms is a must for me. Not a want, a need. Although I am not musical myself—I cannot sing and can only barely play a few instruments that I never bothered to perfect—listening to music has been central to my life since my earliest memories. I want to share a few songs that mean something to me and why.

In no particular order.

“Stick Season” by Noah Kahan

I don’t remember the exact reason for it now, but two years ago Alexa played this song, and I started to sing along. I didn’t really know the words at the time, but I mumbled through a few lines and noticed that Lambert, my twelve-year-old pittie mix, was really relaxing. I asked Alexa to play it again. I sang along even more the second time, and Lambert rolled onto his side, took a deep breath, and exhaled. I gently rubbed his belly as I belted out the words I could remember. He fell asleep.

After that night, it became a months-long ritual. I would sing “Stick Season” to him every night before bed—at least once, but often multiple times. It got to the point that if he heard the song, he would position himself just right on the bed so I could rub him easily and he could take in as much of the song as possible.

My partner at the time teased me that I was singing him a breakup song. And when she and I broke up, I was unable to sing it to him again. What had once been fun—and soothing—became too real for me. The lullaby was immediately retired.

“Shot at the Night” by The Killers

Before we got married, my ex-husband and I used to dream about a beautiful future. He talked about how two incomes would allow us to live comfortably and maybe even adventurously. I believed him, and I wanted a big life. As the marriage continued, we drifted farther and farther from the life I had imagined and settled into a life that felt more like destiny than choice.

Moving to Atlanta sparked something in me. I came here to build a new life, one I assumed would include my husband and our dogs. Instead, the deeper I settled into the city, the less connected I felt to him. Atlanta made me dream again. It made me want a fuller life, one where I was an active participant instead of a bystander.

I started listening to this song, and eventually watching the video, because it captured the restless feeling inside me, the one that kept whispering that I wanted more. It’s still the song I turn on when I need to remind myself to keep going, to stay bold, to not give up on the life I know I’m meant to build.

“Staying Alive” by the Bee Gees

My parents loved music and introduced us to a wide range of artists from an early age. My mom played records or 8-track tapes when she cleaned, and everyone listened to music in the car. When we traveled to Kentucky to visit relatives, I remember packing the giant suitcase of tapes for the eight-hour drive. Donna Summer, Traveling Wilburys, Diana Ross, the Urban Cowboy soundtrack, Waylon Jennings — an eclectic mix that somehow made perfect sense to us.

I have one specific memory of crossing the Cairo Bridge from Illinois into Wickliffe, Kentucky, where the Ohio and Mississippi rivers converge. It was dark; it felt late for a seven-year-old. I sat behind my mom, my dad driving, my brother next to me.

We were all quiet as we approached the blinking lights of the bridge — warning planes and guiding cars from one nothing-town to the next. The Bee Gees’ "Saturday Night Fever" was playing.

Crossing that bridge was a big deal. You could see the water and barges below, carrying cargo down the rivers. Huck Finn was surely somewhere nearby, still trying to make his way north. And crossing it meant we were just an hour from Granny and Granddaddy’s. Music made everything tolerable.

“Sigh No More” by Mumford and Sons

The lyrics to this song mean so much to me that I have eight lines tattooed on my right forearm. The feeling I described earlier, the one that settles deep inside you and refuses to leave, is exactly what this song does to me. I love hard and deep, and I want to be loved the same way in return.

Unfortunately, I have never experienced a true love that matched the one I hoped for. I have craved reciprocity and keep receiving inconsistency instead.

Even so, I have not given up. I believe there is someone out there who will love me without making me feel trapped in a version of love that is not meant for me. I want to feel free, not worried that my love is too much.

This song reminds me of that hope and of the understanding that real love, a good love, will not hold you back.

Below are the lyrics I selected for my tattoo:

Love, it will not betray you,

dismay, or enslave you

It will set you free

There is a design

An alignment

A cry of my heart to see

The beauty of love

as it was made to be

Tonight, as I fall asleep, I will give thanks for the simple gift of being able to hear music. I will also be grateful for the artists who share their talents and their stories so that the rest of us can make sense of our own.

Tonight, I will fall asleep with music in my ears and in my heart.