Every song carries a memory. This one reminds me of my mom—making cabbage salad with carrots, sweet and low and pitchers of lemonade, the mix cd’s she’d make just because she loved this song and wanted me to love it too, of cruising in the summer, the humidity of New Jersey swallowing everything and wasting evenings away in my backyard with friends, trying to think of anything to do that would offer comfort from the heat.
This song has roots, baby. And an awesome saxaphone solo three minutes in. And, now that I am listening to it away from Mom and cabbage salad and New Jersey humidity, I see it is creating roots someplace else. Digs on it.
I hold onto to you. You bring me hope. I’ll see you soon.