Another sun-soaked season

Like a lot of people, I first heard this song on an episode of “Scrubs.” And then I went to the computer the next day to put the question out there: “What was that song on ‘Scrubs’ last night??” Other people had the same question, but eventually, someone answered: It was “Stolen,” by Dashboard Confessional.

I like some of Dashboard Confessional’s stuff, but I wouldn’t say I’m a fan. Still, this song got to me. It was sweet and sweeping, and it sounded the way love should sound: a little halting and hesitant at first, but wholehearted in the end. I downloaded it and listened to it a lot.

Of the people I’ve exposed to this song, though, I seem to be one of the only ones who likes it. I don’t know what that says about me, or about the song. It’s one of those songs that seems to fit me, or at least the “me” that I know (which might not be the “me” that other people see, I guess). But that somehow doesn’t translate to others. Which is okay, because my personal soundtrack is my own, and no one else has to understand this song for me to feel a connection to it.

In some ways, it reminds me of my teen years, when I would turn on the stereo in my basement and spend hours just listening and moving. I would start doing some sort of exercise (sit-ups, usually), but after a while, I’d end up just twirling around, dancing by myself, spinning until I fell over. I was probably lucky that a) my brother never saw me, and b) I split my head open on the brick hearth of the fireplace. I probably looked like an idiot, and I certainly didn’t have any rhythm to speak of, but it felt great to just let go and move to the music. The right music could move right through me, and even though this song wasn’t around back then, it reminds me of the songs that really got me to my feet.

This song also reminds me of further back in my life, when I was really young and played dress-up with my mom’s shoes. The line “I watch you spin around in your highest heels” makes me think of those days, and how my own daughter looks and laughs when she plays dress-up now. It’s a feeling of total reckless abandon, a freedom that we rarely get to experience as adults. It makes me want to run through a sprinkler or have a tea party with my teddy bear.

Most of all, though, I guess this song paints a picture for me of what I always kinda hoped life would be like. We all hope that someone will see us as “the best one of the best ones,” no matter how imperfect we really are. And the idea of a heart being “stolen” is one that makes me think of a gradual, creeping feeling that sneaks up on us until we realize one day that being with this person is what makes us feel amazing, about ourselves and about life in general.

I had a moment like that yesterday, driving home from a weekend trip, in which I actually stopped to think about how much I care about my guy, and the next thing I knew, I was crying like one of those twits on “America’s Next Top Model.” I don’t usually do the “happy cry” thing, so it caught me off guard. I recognized in myself so much happiness and joy and excitement, and so much of it is from sharing my life with him. I see him every day, but this time, I really SAW him. I think of that as my “stolen” moment: I realized that my heart is stolen, but I’m okay with that. Wonderful, in fact. It may be sappy or silly or against feminist ideals, but whatever. It's MY heart.  

It’s good, every so often, to remember why I’m so lucky. Inside me, there’s a laughing little girl in her highest heels, and a wildly-twirling teenager on the basement floor, dancing to the music of my life. And it sounds an awful lot like this song.