On a Ribbon of Highway

It started out softly. I was staring out the car window when the first strains of music started from the Lincoln Memorial. I found myself quietly singing along, fumbling over words that I half remembered but that I could feel inside me.

I heard Bridget singing, too; her voice mingling with mine. I looked over from the passenger seat. Her eyes were intent on the road but her gaze was elsewhere. Mine, too.

As we reached the first chorus I heard a tiny voice from behind me, proudly singing out the song that I assume that she learned in school. However, the voice of a six-year old added a beautiful poignancy to these lyrics.

Finally, I looked at my daughter. Jenna had her head leaning against the car door. She was looking out the window, too; her thoughts were her own. Yet, she was singing. Her voice was soft but steady and clear. Her singing voice echoed the hopes that she has long expressed for today.

All four of us, unplanned and unbidden, singing along to a classic folk song. Our voices joined together in praise and hope that tomorrow will be better than yesterday.

Hope.

For the four of us.

For you and me.

This land is your land, this land is my land
From California to the New York Island

From the Redwood Forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and me.