As I stood in disbelief, I attempted to explain the significance of Sarah McLachlan to my young babysitter. “Oh, right,” she replied with a nod. “I think my best friend’s dad was selling some extra tickets to that concert.” Just shoot me now.
Sarah McLachlan: the voice that accompanied my tumultuous high school years, the artist who made me feel less isolated during the challenging rollercoaster of college life. Her Christmas album remains a cherished favorite, and her heartfelt love songs for her children have become anthems I now share with my own kids. For me, Sarah has been the soundtrack of my life.
Yet, to my 18-year-old babysitter, she is nothing more than an unfamiliar name, starkly reminding me of my age. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and glanced at my husband, who graciously agreed to join me at her concert. I marched determinedly toward the car.
“I am not old,” I reassured myself. “Look at these stylish new shoes I bought from… okay, DSW. And this top? Well, it’s from… fine, Belk. But still! I AM NOT OLD.”
Upon arriving at the theater—note, it was a proper theater, not a bar or a standing-room-only venue—I surveyed the crowd and felt, well, old.
Surrounded by middle-aged couples enjoying a night out, the men in casual jeans and collared shirts, avoiding eye contact, while the women excitedly wore their own variations of black tops. There were older attendees too, men clad in jean shorts with socks and sandals, while women sported the draped blouses that Chico’s specializes in.
Relief washed over me when I realized I wasn’t the oldest person there, but strangely, that made me feel even older. I didn’t spot a single soul under 30, except for an 8-year-old girl attending with her mother. Is this what Sarah McLachlan represents now—a concert for little girls and their moms?
Suddenly, fatigue set in. It was past my bedtime, and I was worn out from a long day of chasing my kids. My feet ached from wearing heels for the first time in months, and all I wanted was to retreat to my cozy sweatpants and a good book—my safe haven that never makes me feel old.
However, we navigated through the crowd, red wine in hand, to our seats. As the lights dimmed and Sarah appeared on stage without an opening act, the music enveloped me, and in an instant, I felt young again.
Her voice transported me back in time. I recalled the pain of being uprooted from my arts school, dancing passionately in the dimly-lit racquetball court while Sarah’s melodies played in the background. Memories of driving down I-85 post-breakup, tears streaming down my face as I sang along to her songs, flooded back.
That night, as Sarah performed songs spanning her career and my life experiences, I wasn’t merely remembering; I was reliving those moments. I was once again that college girl, navigating her way through social challenges, wrapped in the comfort of her dorm room while embracing the uncertainties of the future.
As the evening progressed, the beautiful piano melodies resonated throughout the theater, shaking me to my core, and I found myself in tears. I felt the urge to comfort my younger self, whispering, “Don’t worry. Your life has so many incredible experiences ahead. If I told you where you’ll end up, you wouldn’t believe it. Just trust that everything will work out. Now, sit back and enjoy the music.”
The night, like all perfect evenings, concluded far too quickly. Stripped down yet invigorated, I climbed into our car, the child seats looming in the back, and we headed home to relieve our babysitter.
“How was the show?” she inquired.
“Amazing. You should really give her a listen sometime.”
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Summary:
Reflecting on a concert by Sarah McLachlan, the author navigates the feelings of aging while reconnecting with her youthful self through music. Ultimately, she embraces the bittersweet memories that come with nostalgia, realizing that age is just a number as she relives her past through the artist’s songs.