I was listening to Lacy J Dalton sing “16th Avenue,” and I had an ache inside like I always do when I hear a song that makes me think of my mother.
I was standing in an old café, in the middle of a small town that was not my own, listening to Dalton sing, and I promptly went out and bought the CD to add to my collection of things, of songs, that make me think of the woman who raised