You know what they say about the road to, well, you know where? Good intentions can often get lost along the way. I’ve been meaning to write this letter for about a decade now, so I think it’s finally time to bring it from my mind to the page. This is really a thank-you note that’s been 25 years in the making, and I can’t wait to share my story.
I first discovered the Indigo Girls as a teenager. Their music accompanied me on long drives to cross-country meets, bouncing along the backroads of Pennsylvania in my family’s old station wagon. I’d be sweaty and tired on the way back, but those tapes in my Walkman—complete with the satisfying “ka thunk” of the buttons—made everything better. Emily and Amy sang about friendship, love, and life’s ups and downs, and they reassured me that I would find true connections, even when I felt lost in a world of fake friendships. Their lyrics resonated deeply with me, especially during a time when most women in music were focused on superficial themes.
Their voices were a lifeline during those lonely bus rides and the chaos of adolescence. They showed me that it was possible to emerge as a strong woman, just like them. It was like a pinprick of light cutting through the darkness.
Fast forward seven years. My dad passed away unexpectedly at just 48. I had just graduated from college and was ready to take on the world when the news shattered my reality. I rushed home to support my mom, cooking and doing laundry, all the while feeling an unbearable emptiness. I cursed the beautiful world around me for its indifference to my grief.
I bought Swamp Ophelia during that time, but I was still in a fog. One day, as I climbed the stairs with a basket of laundry, I heard “The Wood Song.” The lyrics hit me like a wave:
“But the wood is tired, and the wood is old,
And we’ll make it fine, if the weather holds
But if the weather holds, we’ll have missed the point
That’s where I need to go.”
In that moment, the music wrapped around me like a warm embrace. It was a reminder of beauty and hope—an invitation to feel again after months of numbness. I sank to the stairs and let the song wash over me. For the first time in a long while, I dared to believe I would be okay.
Fast forward another 15 years. I’m now a mom to two daughters, a full-time teacher, and a part-time writer. On the brink of turning 40, I headed to a concert at Higher Ground in Burlington, Vermont, excited to see the Indigo Girls again. This time, I was closer than ever, able to see their smiles and the passion in their performance. Their music was still a powerful force, inspiring me to embrace life fully and to live with intention. They had shown me how to be a strong woman, and their concert was a gift for my soul.
Fast forward two more years. My family and I are driving cross-country, music blasting as we embark on another adventure. I crank up “Get Out the Map” and “Closer to Fine,” singing along with my heart wide open. My youngest, just 8, listens intently and says, “I love the Indigo Girls.” I smile and respond, “Me too, sweetie. Me too.” Someday, I’ll share my journey with her—the stairs, the concert, and how the circle of becoming a woman continues.
Thank you, Emily and Amy. Your music has enriched my life in countless ways. It may have taken 25 years to express my gratitude, but like fine wine, some things only get better with time—just like you both.
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In summary, the Indigo Girls have been a significant influence in my life from my teenage years to now, providing comfort, inspiration, and a sense of connection through their powerful music. Their messages of authenticity and strength have helped me navigate life’s challenges, and I’m grateful for their enduring impact.