Love the girl who holds the world in a paper cup.....

On my way to work this morning, I heard one of my favorite songs from when I was small. It brought me right back to my living room when I was about 5 or 6, to any given Sunday morning when my Dad would play his stack of 45's. I could almost see the orange panel curtains that used to hang in the living room....the forest green sofa with the afghan on top of it, and the entertainment center of sorts my dad built with 2x4s in the corner of our living room, that was kitty cornered from wall to wall, adjacent to the French doors to the den. I could hear my father whistling and making the little sounds he used to make while he was singing along to any of the songs he really enjoyed when they came on. I think I could even smell what our house used to smell like when I was small. Nothing specific that I can put my finger on and describe in a way that anyone else would recognize....it was just home.

There were many songs that my Dad would play on Sundays. And I liked them all...but this one, I've always loved. It reminds me the most of home and being small. For some reason, this song just stayed with me throughout my whole life. Maybe it's the concept of the song in general that I liked without my even being old enough to realize it....or maybe it's just the tune itself. But the title of my post is a line that has clung in the corner of mind ever since I can remember.

Since I heard it this morning, I was able to rewind it over and over again on my way to work.
And I saved it as a favorite, so now I'll always get an alert when it's on.

It will be nice to go back to that time in my life again, even if just for a few minutes.