Won't Take Nothing But a Memory

I know they say you can't go home again.
I just had to come back one last time.
Ma'am I know you don't know me from Adam.
But these hand prints on the front steps are mine.
And up those stairs, in that little back bedroom
is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar.
And I bet you didn't know under that live oak
my favorite dog is buried in the yard.

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
this brokenness inside me might start healing.
Out here it's like I'm someone else,
I thought that maybe I could find myself
if I could just come in I swear I'll leave.
Won't take nothing but a memory
from the house that built me.
 

(from The House That Built Me, Miranda Lambert)

"The House that Built Me" is a beautiful, emotional song that is difficult to listen to without evoking nostalgic memories of one's own childhood. To watch Miranda Lambert perform it at a benefit concert for the victims of the May 20th tornado in Oklahoma was something of soul cleansing experience. When she broke into tears half way through the song, there could not have been a dry eye in the house. I know there wasn't at my house.

I had stopped watching, listening to or reading the news after the bombing at the Boston Marathon. After my downward spiral following the events during that week, I was afraid of any news. I chose to completely shelter myself from any such media.

I knew this could not go on indefinitely, but I figured I would emerge when I was ready.

I found out about the tragic tornado while I was watching The Voice...ready or not.  Still, I did not allow myself to grieve over this. I was too afraid of what could happen...until the night of the concert last week. I cried right along with Miranda for all those frightened children and all those vanished memories.

I wept...and wept...and wept.

...and I can listen to NPR again.