Music has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Sunday mornings began with Elvis or country gospel filling the kitchen and radiating through the house as my dad made breakfast. Tuesday nights, it was Shakira and Missy Elliot as my mom practiced for her Zumba class.
Most Friday nights concluded with karaoke or a highly competitive dance off between my siblings, maxing out whatever Bluetooth speakers we could find. The days in between were filled with riff-offs, music videos, and duets on the piano. In some way, music was always playing in my house.
In middle school, I joined choir and band, and quitting is still one of my biggest regrets. I’ve always admired friends who can read sheet music like a second language or pick up any instrument and play. Compared to them, music might seem like a smaller part of my life. But even if I don’t play it, I love listening to it with my whole heart.
Growing up, I bounced between music platforms depending on which had fewer ads. My playlists lived on Amazon Music, Spotify, SoundCloud, YouTube Music, Pandora, and eventually, Apple Music. Each one is a time capsule, perfectly preserving the version of me that created it. My SoundCloud is haunted by cringey TikTok songs I once adored, and my Spotify has the longest “sad playlist” I’ve ever seen. It’s embarrassing, but also just makes sense.
Whenever I’m feeling nostalgic, I scroll through those old playlists and play the top song, the one I clung to most at the time. Some are loud pop hits from the early 2010s; others are gut-wrenching and still make me feel sick after the first beat.
On my current playlist, there’s one song that captures this feeling perfectly: “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over” by Jeff Buckley (husband). This song is all over TikTok now, and I know I am not alone in feeling all the emotions when it comes on. The moment I hear that damn harmonica, my day is ruined. It’s beautiful but devastating. That first note sends my heart straight to the pit of my stomach.
There are only a handful of songs that hold that kind of emotional power. They don’t just remind me of a moment; they transport me back to it. That’s why I love revisiting my Apple Replay each year. It’s more than a list of favorites; it’s a map of who I was, what I felt, and the music that carried me through it.