My life has changed–not so much that it’s unrecognizable, even if I am now in Texas, where they let us rock the vote early (which I just did). But it’s changed. I no longer find time to buy music CDs. Instead, when Ray Lamontagne’s third album hit stores, I hit the the ‘Buy Album’ button within my iTunes store. Except, that’s not exactly true. In the past (I’ve been following Ray since May 2004 and have the crappy photos of us to prove it), I’d have been anticipating his upcoming release and would have struggled with the cellophane sleeve the night before it was technically available. And now, I learn it’s in stores, randomly, picking my way through the Internet.
I’m now listening to the final track of the album, a song titled "You Are the Best Thing." It’s the kind of song I live for. The kind I can sing to, spin, and twirl to, with a bend at the knees. It’s a red wine of a song–a grand cru. It’s the kind of music that makes you think of storms, where you’re visiting some ailing aunt (yours or someone elses), and you’re stuck in a house you don’t know, but you’ve found a curtain of space on a screened in porch, and it’s somehow okay, even without anything to do. It’s the kind of music that makes you savor the smaller moments–the ones you think no one else really has.
Now, it’s not just a bottle of wine and a sofa with my bare feet kicked up, a shade of Bordeaux on my toes. It’s all that and more. Now it’s me on a sofa with a swirl of wine and a daughter with hair in her eyes and a pink hideous flower-shaped purse in the crook of her arm, clawing her way into my lap with a Junior Jellybean Book. I’m no longer listening to backup singers, but giggles in my ear and across the room. It’s not just wine in my hands. It’s hands on my face, and a nose rubbing against mine. It’s a picture book with a muppet holding a stop sign. And I couldn’t ask for more than this. This delicious soundtrack of my life.
