About twenty years ago, when I was in college, I fell in love with the Indigo Girls’ music.
Their songs have lyrics like, “There’s not enough room in this world for my pain,” so, of course, this musical duo is absolutely perfect for melodramatic girls who are going through break-ups and best friend drama.
Because, to a nineteen-year-old ball of stress and hormones, there does not seem to be not enough room in this world for her pain.
But it wasn’t just those lyrics that made me love the Girls. Their music is folk-sy, so you can sing along. Plus, they harmonize on just about every song, so you can sing “Closer to Fine” at the top of your lungs and feel like you’re right on key. Even though, if you’re like me, you are probably closer to NOT ON KEY. AT ALL.
And their lyrics aren’t all melodramatic. Most are self-depricating and kind-of funny. Lots of their songs are spiritual and very beautiful and relatable. Anyway, I sound like I’m justifying here–which I probably am because my love for this group’s music was SO, SO much.
Probably even more embarrassing, I felt like the GOT me. Or I got them. Whichever it was, I listened to their music constantly. I memorized every single word of every single album.
Throughout the first ten years of our marriage, I listened to the IG in the car, when I cleaned the house, when I wrote, etc. So, sometimes M also had to listen to them. Because he has never been a melodramatic girl who likes to harmonize with folk songs, he does not enjoy their songs.
For as much as their music soothes me, it bugs the crap out of him.
During this time, Jen and I flew to Vegas to see the Indigo Girls perform, which goes down in history as one of my FAVORITE TRIPS EVER. We both listened to them constantly and there’s nothing more fun than a concert with your best friend to see your favorite group of all time.
Then we both had our first kids, and we both started to listening to lots of CDs that taught the ABCs. I still listened to the Indigo Girls when I wrote or cleaned, but nearly as much. By the time Catie was three, she knew some of their songs. She and I would dance all over the house to “Hammer and a Nail” and “Bitter Root.”
But then something happened. And the music died.
Four years ago on this very weekend, Jen and I drug our husbands along to another Indigo Girls concert. Life had changed for us. Between us, we had given birth to SIX kids. Both of us had done decades of growing up. We were no longer melodramatic, insecure girls (much).
Even with all that growing, I was still SO EXCITED for this concert. Like, obnoxious excited. I decided that after twenty years of listening to their music, it was time to meet Amy and Emily, the Indigo Girls. So, we stalked their tour bus after the concert.
And, you know how it goes when you meet someone you’ve admired for a long time. I was so nervous, but I was also pretty certain I would have some kind of connection with Amy and Emily. After all, their music had seeped into my soul. I wanted to tell them that. I wanted them to like me. I wanted to sit around in their tour bus and tell them about the summer I played Become You on repeat over and over.
You probably also know what happened next: the meeting was disappointing. It was late, they were tired, and really didn’t feel like taking pictures with psychotic fans outside their tour bus. Amy (or was it Emily?) even said, “Hey guys. I really need to go. Someone’s waiting on the phone for me.”
The meeting was so underwhelming that all my love and excitement just sort-of whooshed out of me. I went home and didn’t listen to the Indigo Girls again.
Just as dramatically as I had ONLY listened to their music, I stopped. It wasn’t that I was really that stung by their apathy, I just suddenly felt older and wiser, and the Indigo Girls seemed like music for a self-absorbed young girl. That wasn’t me any more. (Ha!).
For the past four years, I haven’t really listened to any music at all. Mostly I listen to kids telling me knock-knock jokes that don’t make sense. Sometimes I listen to audio books or NPR. Lately I’ve listened to KSBJ, a Christian station. But I have not listened to one single beat of “Power of Two” or “Southland in the Springtime” or any of those other Indigo Girls that were my personal anthems.
Until last week.
Working at the beach house has meant SO MANY hour of solitude scrubbing cabinets and driving that I was getting lonely. One day I turned on some Indigo Girls.
BAM! Just like that, they were back in my soul. It was like hearing from an old friend, and I haven’t been able to get enough of their hundreds of songs.
Maybe it wasn’t the Girls’ music that I missed but that young girl, with her hope and energy and emotions.
Anyway, it looks like all those girls are back. For good.
(Ed. Note: Yeah. About the below picture. I don’t know. Jen? What are the guitar picks? Did we catch those? Did Emily and Amy give them to us after the concert? Did the IG invite us on stage to play a quartet of “Galileo” with them. I just don’t remember.)
