On bir.

A hot, sticky July night, cruising through downtown Memphis, with country music streaming out of the speakers. It’s been a long time since I’ve listened to country music and I’m falling in love all over again. Something about being with old friends, being back in the South, driving aimlessly late on a summer night. Puts me back into my teenage years. The conversation meanders through many topics until we settle on music. Someone mentions Shania Twain, and C.P. and I burst out in unison:

Whose bed have your boots been under?

And whose heart did you steal, I wonder?

This time, did it feel like thunder baby?

And who did you run to?

Return to the best of friends. Return to the best of seasons. Return to the best of music. Simple nights are the best nights.

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