make me a mix tape

i. she eats the blues like her friends eat smores, savoring every little bit.

 

ii. she was raised on songs, on old classics and vinyl and tapes, on the belief that music is pure emotion carried by instruments and words through a crackling old tape player.

 

iii. her daddy showed her riffs on the guitar when she was still a little girl, and her mama started planning out the music for her wedding before she could even talk; she didn’t mind, though. sometimes she thought her mama knew more about music than johnny cash, bob dylan, louis armstrong, and jimi hendrix all smooshed together.

 

iv. when she finally did meet someone, there was no doubt in her mind that he was the one her mama would get to play that wedding music for. everyday when she drove to work she’d turn the volume up, high as it would go, on her car’s old tape player. and she’d smile.

 

she always knew she’d marry the man who made her a perfect mix tape.

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