what you need to understand is i have been there for all of it. my pre-teen head was pressed against the rear car window, cool from the outside rain, while "live like you were dying" faded out on the speakers and the radio dj announced that, after that song by tim mcgraw, they've got a brand new song that's called "tim mcgraw". my bony thirteen-year-old fingers were close enough to grasp at the spray from the water in the "should've said no" performance on the fearless tour. i spent my first hard-earned babysitting money on wonderstruck perfume. the first place i drove with my license was the red concert. my first college dorm had my 1989 polaroids thumbtacked to its walls. i've lost my mind over social media blackouts and created youtube playlists with nothing but the same video of a woman eating cookie dough ten times over that i could leave playing on repeat while i slept. i've counted palm trees and stairs and the holes in the fence. i've waited with baited breath on twitter for camping girl to get wifi again. standing in glendale, arizona on march 17, 2023, watching dancers bringing out large, orange-and-lavender fans, amidst the screaming i remember thinking to myself, i've been around this block enough times now, she's gonna come out from under there, isn't she? i've gotten sucker-punched at 3 am two releases in a row. every friendship bracelet, every easter egg, every talk show appearance, every theory about different lyric interpretations, anything — i know. i was there.

the air was cold but something about it