In a moment of disbelief, I found myself trying to explain who Sarah McLachlan is to my teenage babysitter.
“Oh, right,” she replied, nodding with a hint of confusion. “I think my friend’s dad was selling tickets to her concert.”
I felt a wave of despair wash over me.
Sarah McLachlan—the artist who provided the soundtrack to my tumultuous high school days and the emotional rollercoaster of college. The voice that reassured me during those lonely years and whose Christmas album remains my all-time favorite. She’s also the one who now crafts heartfelt songs for her children, which I find myself dedicating to my own kids. Sarah has been the melody to my life’s playlist.
Yet, standing next to my 18-year-old babysitter—a reminder of my own aging—I felt a pang of nostalgia mixed with discomfort. I squared my shoulders and glanced at my husband, who had kindly agreed to join me for her concert. “I am definitely not old,” I told myself. “These stylish shoes I got from… okay, DSW, and this shirt from… well, Belk, are proof. I AM NOT OLD.”
As we arrived at the theater—a proper venue with plush red seats and assigned seating—I took in my surroundings and felt a wave of realization wash over me.
The audience was filled with middle-aged couples enjoying a night out. The men trailed behind their wives, dressed casually in jeans and collared shirts, while the women buzzed with excitement in their various iterations of black tops. There were also older couples; men in jean shorts and sandals, and women adorned in the draped blouses that Chico’s is known for.
I was relieved to find I wasn’t the oldest in the room, but that only deepened my sense of being out of touch. What struck me the most was the absence of anyone under 30—except for an 8-year-old girl attending with her mother. Is this what Sarah McLachlan’s concerts had become—a night out for young girls and their moms?
Suddenly, fatigue hit me. I was past my bedtime, weary from a day of wrangling my kids, my feet protesting in heels after two months of avoidance. All I wanted was to retreat to the comfort of my sweatpants and a good book, where I felt truly at ease.
But, red wine in hand, we made our way to our seats. As the lights dimmed, Sarah took the stage without an opening act.
The moment her voice filled the air, I was transported back in time.
I remembered what it was like to be young—the heartache of leaving my arts school, the joy of dancing in a racquetball court to her music, and those long drives down I-85 post-breakup, singing along with Sarah while tears streamed down my face.
As she performed, I didn’t just reminisce; I was transported back to my past. Suddenly, I was that college girl again, wrapped up in her tiny dorm room, feeling lost but hopeful. I was there, reliving the excitement of graduation, my diploma in hand, ready to embrace the future.
As the evening unfolded, the lovely piano melodies reverberated through the theater, touching my heart deeply. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I connected with my younger self.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered to her, “I’m looking at your life now, and you wouldn’t believe the incredible journey ahead. Just trust that it’ll all work out. Now, let’s enjoy the music.”
As all great nights do, this one came to an end too soon. I returned to the car, greeted by the familiar sight of child seats in the back. As we drove home to relieve our babysitter, she asked, “How was the show?”
“Fantastic! You should really check her out sometime,” I replied.
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In summary, attending a Sarah McLachlan concert reminded me that age is just a number, and the music can transport us back to our youth, filling our hearts with nostalgia and joy.
Keyphrase: Embracing Age Through Music
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