I never thought that hip-hop would make me cry

 This is the soundtrack to this post:

Driving back from a 13th birthday party.  Rissa and two friends in the backseat near-to-collapsing from an afternoon in the blinding sun – hair still wet from the home made Slip-n-Slide.
“Daddy!  Daddy can you please put it on ‘aux’?” 

David changes the stero input.   We close the windows – put on the AC.  The opening strains of  Same Love pipe through the car. 

I wish I’d taped it.  For the first time in my life, I wish I actually used a cell phone that had a video app component and I had taped it.  Then you’d see two adults in the front seat, sharing a look.  Three girls in the backseat doing spoken word with Macklemore and then joining Mary Lambert as the chorus swells.

This song.  This song celebrating love.  Of all kinds.  And these girls – singing with all their hearts.  Pushing mine near to breaking because it’s so beautiful.  These just-turned-teenagers know the words, all the words, to this song.   My breath hitches.  Tears come to my eyes – I turn my head because I don’t want them to stop – which is what they’ll do if they know how hard we’re listening to them.  I put my hand on the back of David’s neck, reaching out, needing to share this connection.  To acknowledge that this hip-hop groove can change lives, change perceptions, change the world if we let it.  So proud.  So freaking proud of these girls.  Wishing I knew the song well enough so that I could sing along too.

So don’t be surprised Macklemore and Ryan Lewis.  Don’t be surprised if some random woman – old enough to be your older sister or your mom – stops you, holds you tight and whispers in your ears, “Thank you.  Thank you.  For standing up, for speaking out, for sharing love.”