Posts Tagged ‘music’

I have always had an affinity toward Fleetwood Mac, as well as Stevie Nicks. If we rewind to an evening in early October, my mother gave birth to her youngest child. It was her second daughter. She had a spat with my father over this daughter’s name. Would she be Stephanie or would she be Michelle? My father desperately wanted Michelle, but my mother won. That little girl, also known as me, was named Stephanie.

My mother wanted to name me after her idol, Stevie Nicks. Stevie had been born “Stephanie”, and took Stevie as her stage name. I went by Stevie with my extended family ever since, though to my friends I was always called Stephanie post 3rd grade when I mastered spelling my own name with confidence.

I share this little jewel with you because from time to time I will pop my Fleetwood Mac Greatest Hits album into my cd player in my car, just to feel a little closer to home.

I grew up listening to a lot of The ‘Mac, as you could imagine. It just seems that the older I get, the more I actually understand and relate to the songs that I used to sing along to on the long road trips to my grandmother’s house. Each song has begun to speak to my heart and remind me of feelings and memories I can not express in my own words with such eloquence.

On my drive home from work yesterday, I popped the disc in after hearing my mother’s voice on my voicemail. The song that roped me in was an old one, but surely a good one.

“Gypsy”, written and sung by the one and only Stevie Nicks became my car ride anthem. I must have listened to it about 8 times before getting home. Stevie reflects upon a younger version of herself, and how from time to time that self shines like a lightening bolt lighting up a midnight sky.

It made me think about my prior post. I know deep down inside I am still that same old gypsy, though my actions are now a lot more careful rather than carefree. And from time to time, I can see my husband’s eyes light up when I do something quirky that reminds him of the person he fell in love with only 3 years ago. I have changed dramatically and aged quickly, but that gypsy is still twirling on the mountainside in my heart.

As I write this, I miss my mother. I have not seen her since Christmas, and can’t wait to hug her tightly again. I talk to her frequently on the phone, and last night I called her back after my drive home was complete. Almost as if I was destined to listen to “Gypsy” and reflect the car ride, my mom mentioned a little tree I gave her one Halloween. I was teaching at the time, and went to work dressed as a gypsy for the holiday. On my way out the door, my boss handed me a tree that was donated to the school to be handed out by a local nursery. Living in an apartment limited my ability to plant such a tree, so I drove from work to my parents farm.

I bounded through the door the way I did when I lived there, and my mother looked at me with smiling eyes. “What are you doing here!? Won’t Erik (my husband) be missing you?” she squealed with glee.

“Well mom….What do gypsies give out for Halloween?!” I exclaimed back, with my gift hidden behind my back.

She looked bewildered until I whipped out my tiny pine from behind my back. My mother giggled with delight.

She planted the little tree outside of the living room window where she could see it from her favorite spot on the couch. She was out shoveling every snow storm this winter to dig the little tree out for its own safety, and she is determined to keep it alive despite everything.

On the phone last night she was giving me my regular update about the little tree, but instead of calling it “your tree” as she usually did, she called it “The Gypsy Tree”. My heart smiled a little, as I accepted my little bits of happiness and reassurance.

I am still the gypsy after all, so I guess you can still call me Stevie.

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