Between 65 and You
Between 65 and You
Some things start as words because you don’t know yet that they’re supposed to be a song.
Years ago, I wrote something called My Girl.
It wasn’t really about grand gestures.
It was about getting lost on old back roads.
Baby blues and golden eyes.
Catching tears while bruises healed.
Late-night ice cream dates.
The Gulf after dark.
Kids in the back seat.
Holding hands.
Chasing sunsets.
Learning that trust didn’t have to be a foreign language.
It was about discovering that love could be passionate without being painful.
That safe didn’t have to mean boring.
That being loved well didn’t make me smaller.
It made me recognize myself again.
And somewhere in all of that, I found the word I had been looking for:
Home.
I’ve written a lot of things since then.
I’ve lived a lot of things since then, too.
But when I came back to these words, something surprised me.
I still meant them.
Not because life followed the script I imagined when I first wrote them.
Life rarely has that kind of manners.
But because whatever happened after those moments doesn’t get to rewrite them.
I still know what I saw when I looked at her.
I still know what it felt like to recognize myself in the way someone else saw me.
I still know what those back roads, sunsets, ordinary days and ridiculous late-night adventures meant.
I still believe love should feel safe.
I still believe love should make room for you to become more yourself, not less.
I still believe the person beside you should make you want to write again, dream again, be a better mother, and believe in a future you can actually picture.
I still believe in leaving the judging to Jesus.
And yes.
I still believe in the girl dressed in white.
So I didn’t want to rewrite the truth out of the song just because I know more now than I knew when I first put those words on paper.
Knowing what comes next doesn’t make what came before less true.
Maybe that’s why this song finally found me again.
The words changed a little.
The melody finally showed up.
And My Girl found a new name.
Between 65 and You
Because somewhere between an Alabama sunrise, a Gulf Coast sunset, and all those miles in between, I learned what loving someone could feel like.
And whatever else the story becomes, I still know what I called it.
Home.
Southern Peanut
🎧 Listen to “Between 65 and You”
