Early morning car rides to get Jack in the Box pancakes, thrift stores aisles, waking up on Saturday mornings to the sound of her singing along to 1980s music videos on TV. 

Our bond is continuously strengthened through music, a language of love and understanding. It only made sense to honor that bond through a playlist of memories.

“Come Away With Me” by Norah Jones was one of my first lullabies, a reminder of warm hugs and fitting snugly in my mom’s arms. When I was little, it was just my mom and I, and despite struggles, she made those years full of love and light.

In 2012, my life became bigger after my mom married Josh, the man who stepped up to be my dad. When she was pregnant with my sister, Shiloh, she became obsessed with Taylor Swift. When her 2013 album, 1989, released my dad and I snuck off one night to buy her the CD. “Style” by Taylor Swift will always remind me of becoming a big sister, and despite my life suddenly changing, feeling like I belonged.

Anyone who knows my mom knows little can stop her from singing and dancing along to music, whether in public, the car or our kitchen. It is a quirk I used to be so embarrassed by, and when songs like “Groove is in the Heart” by Deee-Lite, came on I would groan and cover my eyes, knowing her next move. As I have gotten older, I try to remember that the sight of my mom on her feet and happy, the sound of her voice as she attempts to sing both parts of the duet, is a beautiful snapshot of her soul that I will desperately miss one day. 

Harry Styles is the first artist I ever got to see in concert. My mom knew I was struggling with my mental health at the time, and surprised me with tickets. Despite it being a financial setback, like many things in my life, my mom made it happen just to make me happy. I still remember the way the stadium lights danced during “Sign of the Times,” and swaying with my mom in the tight aisle seats.

My mom introduced me to “Change” by Blind Melon in elementary school, and I was immediately enthralled. While on a road trip to Florida, we stopped in New Orleans for a few hours, and my mom led us through the French Quarter looking for a house the band had used as a recording studio. When we finally found the house in the humid Louisiana summer, I stood on my tiptoes to take a peek inside a tall window. But, always her baby, my mom lifted me to its ledge. When I look back, I realize that for her, it was more important to see my eyes light up, to hear my laugh than to get a chance to look herself. I think that perfectly sums up the type of woman my mom is to everyone around her.

I cannot think of Fleetwood Mac and not think of my mom. The voice of Stevie Nicks has been engrained in me for as long as I can remember, and her lyrics too. The song “Landslide” makes my mom tear up every time it plays, because it reminds her of us. When I was in ninth grade, it started playing through my earbuds while alone in the cafeteria, and for the first time, it made me cry too. I realized that despite things changing as I grow older, I will always need my mom.

To my mommy, I love you to the moon and back. I do not think I could ever truly express what our bond means to me and the way you helped me become the woman I am. No matter what challenges I face, no matter how alone I may feel, you always make me feel like I belong and that I matter. We’ve certainly had our setbacks and problems through the years, both as a team and against one another.

I know that as I enter adulthood, our relationship will change once again. But I also know that you were always meant to be my mom, and no matter what, I could not think of a better example of the strength and compassion for my life, than what I see in you. 

Thank you.

You can find Marli’s dedicatory playlist here

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