I love music. Sometimes I hate music. And other times, I love and hate it at the same time. There's a handful of very lovely songs like this; they tap too deeply into my heart and make me start crying because they remind me too much of how much I love. For instance, I've never seen Dumbo all the way through because I know what's going to happen when the scene starts when Dumbo visits his imprisoned mom and "Baby Mine" starts up. Not only is it going to make me cry then and there, but it'll stay in my head for the next few days, no matter what I do, and it'll whack me in the kneecap when I least expect it.
Right up there with that is "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face." Any version of it can do it, but Roberta Flack will forever own that song, and there's an ache in her voice as she sings it that really brings on the tears for me. (Here's the story behind that ache, by the way, which will break your heart.) It drilled me enough when I was single, but, oh, how it takes on new meaning once you've found someone and shared your life with that person for years and years.
And then one sneaks up on you. That's what happened with "I Say A Little Prayer." One night a few years ago, hubby and I were sitting on the couch listening to the radio, and that came on. And I thought, "Holy cow, that's exactly what I do for him, too, isn't it?" And the lump came to my throat. I'd put that aside for a little while, but one day a couple weeks back we were at home and that song was played at the end of a Cold Case re-run. Sure enough, there's that lump in my throat again, and the tears weren't that far behind. Nor were they the next morning, when I thought about it.
Music, why must you be so eloquently accurate? And why must you lodge in my brain like a Milk Dud in my teeth?
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