This morning, I put together a playlist for Selam. During lunch I burned it to CD so we could play it in the car. We’ve been listening to the same few CDs for over a year now, and it’s time for a change. The CD contains a mishmash of songs–most of them songs that she has already heard–a few from Frozen, “You Can’t Stop the Beat” from Hairspray, a few camp favorites like “Bulletproof” and “Wakawaka (This Time for Africa).” There’s some new ones that I think she’ll like, “So Much Grace” (Allison Slattinger)“So Glad I’m Here” (Elizabeth Mitchell) and a few that are just family favorites, like “Brown Eyed Girl” (with a few loudly mis-sung lyrics).
We stopped for burritos on the way home at one of her favorite places. Normally she can’t wait to go inside, but tonight we had to hear just one more song. After burritos, we pushed on home, in heavier than normal traffic. It took forever, but we were singing the whole way.
When we got home, we sat in our little grey car in front of the building. “Just one more,” she’d beg, and then another and another. We listened to the last of the songs in the dark, belting out the choruses where we could.
When the last tinny sound melted away, I quickly shut off the ignition, before the CD started to repeat. We sat there for just a second longer.
“That was like having all of my friends over to play at the same time,” she said.
I gathered the parcels and bags and opened her door for her.
We walked inside, where the cat’s meow could be heard from behind the apartment door.