Only love.

I was eight years old. I was sporting the haircut I had seemingly my entire childhood – short, chin-length with bangs. I was sitting in the passenger seat of the car while my mother was driving. My feet didn’t touch the floor and I remember being able to look straight out and see my black and white saddle shoes staring back at me.

She was flipping through the radio stations, trying to find something to settle on for our little journey to the grocery store or wherever it was that we were going that day. I just remember that it was cold, late fall, and I had on my heavy wool navy blue coat that was keeping me insulated and warm as I watched her scan through the FM. I remember how she looked sitting there, the soft profile of her face from my low vantage point, the slow curving of her mouth, her eyes that shifted from the dial to the road to me.

And then she finally found a song - Gene Pitney’s “Only Love Can Break a Heart.” As I sat there looking out the window I didn’t understand what Gene was talking about. In fact, it seemed to me that all of the songs she had already passed – actually all of the songs I’d ever heard before – were all talking about the same thing.

So I looked over at her with semi-disgust and asked, “Why are songs always about love?” I remember the way her face looked, glancing down at me with eyes bright, as she smiled before taking a deep breath like she knew something I didn't, and simply responded: “Because what better thing is there in the world to sing about?”