The other day a friend told me I listened to "dad rock." I actually took this as a compliment, because my Dad's rock still plays in my heart more than any music.
Today I was cleaning the house. Windows open, music on, vacuum going. When I turned it off a song came on that made me sit awhile to just look through old family photos. I love how a song can bring you back to memories 20 years old.
When we were little, Auva and I would sit in the backseat of my Dad's car. And in those short trips to the doctor's office, way home from school, or errand to run, we heard all of my Dad's favorite songs.
One day she heard me humming Don Mclean's American Pie.
I was probably 7 years old, and for a good Summer, she had me convinced that she had written that song for him, and he performed it.
Today, I just can't get into music that way. I can't imagine driving my kids to the lake, and blaring Lady Gaga. I don't see them 20 years down the road hearing one of her songs while they clean their homes, overcome with emotion at the memories we had together, listening to Poker Face.
So I guess I listen to Dad Rock. I think I might be completely okay with that.
Have a wonderful weekend, lovelies.
I will be ankle deep in the mud, trying to save my garden.