On The Drive Down

These are the things in life that are consistent: sisters, driving, and Taylor Swift

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On October 24, 2015 I was in Atlanta GA with three of my sisters (two by blood, one by circumstance). We were walking into the Georgia Dome, back when it was a thing, and I was wearing a letterman’s jacket with white converses, red lipstick, and a hat that said “haters gonna hate”. I felt a little silly, being a twelve year old girl dressed like a hip hop dancer, but that was the music video that I was assigned, and a ballerina tutu felt a little more daunting. I remember being excited as we found our seats, put on our light-up wristbands, and watched the two opening acts of Shawn Mendes and Vance Joy, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the wave of emotion that was about to hit me. This was a time before concerts were chronicled online as thoroughly as they are now, and I had no idea what the set list would be or what she was going to wear, but I’ll never forgot when the lights went dark and the first notes of "Welcome To New York” started playing. The wristbands were lighting up and synced up with the claps in the buffers. I remember not being able to see her right away and feeling anxious. I knew she was coming but the music had already started and I couldn’t see her. I was looking frantically—our seats were high up so it would’ve been easy to lose her. Sure enough, after what felt like way too long, she rose from the stage. I remember seeing her hair first (the shoulder length bob) and then her assured smile. I remember the exact moment, when I felt so overwhelmed that I could do nothing but cry. But I also loved that song, so I wanted to sing too. I ended up doing both and there is still a video out there somewhere of me screaming/crying/ singing my heart out with an intensity that I had never before had in me, and I don’t think I’ve reached since. It was the most expressive I’ve ever been, and it was a reflection of how I felt. My only coherent thought was “there she is. I can’t believe it”. I knew she would be there, but you don’t always realize that until you see it. And it was one of the greatest moments of my life.

When I say I am a Taylor Swift fan, I don’t mean I got really into her during the pandemic, or that I started listening when she turned pop. What I mean is I’ve been here since the beginning. For as long as I can remember. During her “Fearless” era I dressed up as her for Halloween (a practice I would later replicate three more times). The first song I ever learned that wasn’t a worship or Disney song was “Our Song”. I didn’t know what the words meant but I knew them all. And while I want to give myself the credit for this introduction to mainstream music, the person who brought me into the world of the singer-songwriter was my sister Kate. She was the one who bought and downloaded the music onto her bright pink iPod nano, which she then gave to me when she got a new one. She was the one who insisted we learn the words to “Forever and Always” in the grocery story parking lot, and when she turned fifteen and my other sister Mary Dean and I started blasting the “Fearless” track of the same name to surprise her on her birthday. For as long as I have had Taylor, we have had Taylor. Her music was something my sisters and I all had in common, more than any other artist. I remember Mary Dean with her “Red” album t-shirt and matching red lipstick, and how we would all ride on the golf cart—sometimes for hours—listening to “1989”. This would culminate in a 12 day long project where we would post videos on instagram lip syncing in the car to her hits on the days leading up to Christmas with the hashtag “#twelvedaysoftaylor”, and while it didn’t go viral in the traditional sense (our goal being that Taylor would notice), we were once stopped in our local Target by someone asking if we were “the Taylor Swift girls”. I felt like the most famous person in the world.

There is something so personal about the first artist you listen to because they come to represent a pivotal stage in your life, the one of growing up. This is something even more special with Taylor, because she grows with you. My life can be marked with her career successes, and when its time to move from one stage (or era) to another, she follows in many ways. Or rather we follow her.

I don’t know how rare this is, but how lucky am I that I got to grow up with Taylor Swift? While I might have been slightly too young for her at times I always think back to the long hours of listening, the driving and discussion with my sisters and friends; and how she, more than anyone, is able to articulate in simple terms and succinct poetry the complex emotions and situations experienced by so many girls and women. She makes them feel understood and brings people together. The place where my memories of this are sharpest is in the car. When you have so much time driving you want to make it as productive as possible, and you fill the time with music. This amount of free space, when you’re forced to pause, creates moments you cannot plan for, but they often end up being the best ones; and the most easily forgotten. But you remember the feeling and soon enough you start planning the cars rides. I have vivid memories of my sisters and I driving for the sake of it. The liminal space of driving paired with the liminal space between childhood and adulthood. This is where we find music, and that’s where Taylor lived primarily. Two spaces that might feel innocuous, but come to represent more because of the people we share those times with. You might meet all kinds of people at the destinations in your life, but the strongest relationships are often made in the transitional periods, because those are the people who are there for you throughout. When my mother and I drove to move me into my freshman year dorm room, I played her “Long Live” for the first time. My sisters and I drove to Miami for a Coldplay concert, but the car ride was just as impactful. So much so, that we named the car. Music has a way of marking it all; every moment. And as I have established, for most of my growing up, where there was music, there was Taylor.

I will never forget watching her concert documentary “Journey to Fearless” and crying because I didn’t think there was any way I would see her live or meet her in person. I must have been six and utterly devastated. I also remember quite clearly being eleven during the Christmas of 2014. I was sitting on the Baldwin’s sofa next to Kate, Mary Dean, and our greatest friend Anna. We were all holding feather light gift bags that I—for some reason—thought were tickets to go see Wicked: The Musical (I would actually see it two months later but that wasn’t what was in the bag). We closed our eyes and when we opened them we saw a ticket printed with the words “TAYLOR SWIFT CONCERT”. To say I was shocked is an understatement, and there is still a video of it somewhere. We then spent months planning for the Atlanta show. We all decided to go dressed as a different music video from the era—and she had so many from the album, we had a lot to choose from. We guessed on what the set list would be and who she would bring out as a guest. And while I was genuinely excited the whole time, I was not prepared for the emotional and physical reaction I ended up having. I broke down sobbing at this twenty-five year old women singing about things and situations my twelve year old brain couldn’t be bothered to understand. But I had waited my whole life for it. And I was with my sisters, all three of them. In that moment I felt such an overwhelming sense of joy and wonder and bewilderment. Every emotion, all the love I had for my sisters, my mother, this singing cat lady, and all the things that every song she ever wrote had ever prompted in me were on the surface. I don’t think words will ever be able to truly capture how it felt, but I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the culmination of every car ride we had spent, every video we had made, and how after years of loving Taylor’s music we were seeing all the magic being made in real time.

The amount of zeal I had expressed the first time I saw her live was just as much about the people I was with as it was about the concert. I don’t have a story about how Taylor got us all through a hard time, or saved our relationships, or any larger or grand thing beyond what she was —and still is—to us. We just like her. And she brings us together. In that way, she’s like Peyton. Another dear friend, whom we loved like a sister and lost too soon. I always thought if I ever got to meet Swift she would be a lot like Peyton. Someone funny and authentic who would meet you where you were at. I don’t know If I’m giving Taylor Swift too much credit, but I was less sad about never getting to meet her when I was around Peyton. When she passed I listened to Swift’s “Peter” a lot. I found myself hanging onto the lyrics: “my lost fearless leader...preserved from when we were just kids...I thought it was just goodbye for now...you said you were gonna grow up then you were gonna come find me” and despite that all too familiar impression, I found a lot of solace and comfort when I learned that Mary Dean had been listening too. In that darkest season, we had a song that was able to capture some of what we were feeling, and for me personally having that in common was a gift. And I don’t think it would’ve happened with any other artist, because if there is one person were both going to listen to it was Taylor.

The older I get, and the older my sisters get, the more we change from who we used to be. We start moving away, living individual lives, and even starting our own families. That’s just growing up, and while it can be daunting I know it’ll be okay because of things that keep us together. We always have the holidays, weddings, vacations, cocktails, and car rides that keep us coming back and among those things is Taylor Swift. And while we don’t do it as much anymore, we still drive around Dothan AL, listening to her stuff.

On December 31, 2024, the day of Mary Dean’s wedding (and a decade after #twelvedaysoftaylor) we were driving to the ceremony. Once again, a car ride where we were forced to pause, sit still, contemplate, and feel all the nervousness that fixing our hair or taking pictures could no longer distract us from. Anna driving, Kate in the passenger seat, MD and I in the back. It was the “1989” crew, and Mary Dean insisted we listen to “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived” (not because it was thematically relevant, but because its a great song). We sang out our hearts and our nervous energy on our way to the church, palms facing heaven like we were in a worship service, seeking something familiar in the midst of something life changing. Using music to mark the transition, and bringing Taylor, once again, into the liminal moments that shape us. These are the things in life that are consistent: sisters, driving, and Taylor Swift. We’re not friends because of her, but her consistency throughout our lives has given us, not just an outlet to express ourselves, but an experience to share with one another. And how incredible is it that it was this artist, who, from the beginning of our growing up, has been consistently active, and to this day is still a part of the milestones of our lives? Still the Taylor Swift girls, still singing on the drive down.