As If Leaving Home Was Easy
Sara Evans came on the radio today. I hadn’t listened to her in a while so it seemed fitting, and it took me by surprise. I almost didn’t realize it until halfway through singing along, mulling over a red light at a busy intersection in Tennessee. It’s Sara Evans’ “As If,” one of her funky, more underrated songs. I love it because it’s surprisingly relatable and so much fun. Sara Evans makes me miss home and the people still in it.
Her music always reminds me of growing up at home in Tucson, Arizona. When her songs spill out of speakers I am transported back to my living room. We’re getting ready for a party — my parents are wonderful hosts — and my mom says from across the kitchen, “Lisa, I have a job for you.” My eyes light up and my shoulders tighten, ready to hear how I can contribute to the coordination of the gathering. Being the youngest of four I am ecstatic at the opportunity to have a job.
“Will you pick out some music to put on,” she asks, knowing my answer.
“Anything specific you have in mind?” I ask.
“I trust you,” she affirms.
This is what I was made for, I think to myself. I put in CD after CD in our 6-disc stereo player, each one is chosen and placed with purpose. I consider the event, the people coming, and what music might fit the occasion best. Though with each party, five of the six discs rotate accordingly, there is always one that stays put in the first disc slot: Sara Evans’ Born to Fly album. Once each disc is locked in place, I press play and wait for the sound of the inevitable pop of the stereo before the snare rolls in “Born to Fly.”
I join my mom in the kitchen and we dance and sing to the title track and to “Let’s Dance.” I cherish these moments: singing into wooden spoons feeling every single lyric literally as it rolls off my tongue. Her music captures happiness in a moment.
People arrive and the house fills with laughter and movement. The background music is tracking the evening like a real-life soundtrack and it’s just enough to tie the night together without speaking over people. The 6-disc rotation has finished it’s first round and suddenly the twang of Sara Evans transcends through the night again, a little bit deeper than the rest of the music, almost as if it fills the fissures of space between the drinks clinking and the people conversing. I trail through the open space bumping backs and saying “excuse me” as I grab a plate and grasp the overwhelming gratitude I feel. I catch myself singing along to “I Could Not Ask For More” in the kitchen when my mom approaches and asks, “Honey, do you need anything?” My answer is no. I have everything I need, and truly could not ask for more.
Another stereo pop and suddenly I’ve clicked out of my day dream. The light is green and “As If” is fading out as another obnoxious car commercial takes her place in the radio speakers. I’m visiting home tomorrow, so it’s no coincidence Sara Evans graced the radio today. I think that was orchestrated.
