bring it on home to me

(image art.com)

i remember this one time when i riding in the car with my mom, i was about twelve and we pulled up to a red light. i looked over at the station wagon next to us, as you do, and saw a mom and four young kids in the back seats. the kids were climbing all over each other -- yelling, screaming, throwing stuff and were generally a sticky, obnoxious mess. but the mom was zen. she was singing along to wind beneath my wings on the radio (no, really), gripping the steering wheel and seemed a million miles away from the chaos that was not even two-feet away. at the time i found this hilarious. i was completely unaware of the power of a song to bring you clarity for just a moment.

i often find my day-to-day life an exercise in hurry up to catch up. i regularly struggle to be fully present. i try, lord knows, i really try to be a good mother, a good wife, a good employee, a good friend and do the right thing.  it's fucking hard. and i beat myself up about every gd little thing. and i worry about way too much bs for one person. the words i often hold in. the complications of life that i long to understand. the attitude i envy in someone.  the woman i aspire to be. the confidence i want my son to always feel. the fulfillment that i want for me. goddammit.

so yesterday i treated my fellow 395 commuters to at least three renditions of sam cooke's bring it on home to me (the live from the harlem club version, duh). i practically lost my voice i as i bellowed along with sam. i'm sure the twelve-year-old passing me by thought i was certifiably coo coo for cocoa puffs and had a giggle to herself. but i can tell you with absolute certainty, that i did not even notice. i hung in there with sam, even through, "let me hear you say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, say oh yeah, oh yeah." and it's the best i've felt all week.