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If Loving Jenna Collins Makes Me Old, I’m Okay With That
I was taken aback when my teenage babysitter asked, “Who’s Jenna Collins?”
“Oh, right,” she replied, nodding. “I think my mom had some tickets to one of her shows.”
Honestly, just shoot me now.
Jenna Collins—the voice that accompanied my angsty high school years, the artist who comforted me during the tumultuous college days, the one whose holiday album I still adore, and the songwriter whose love ballads for her children I now share with my own kids. Jenna has been the soundtrack to my life.
Yet here I was, feeling ancient as my 18-year-old sitter didn’t even recognize her. I squared my shoulders and glanced at my husband, who agreed to join me at her concert, and marched to the car.
“I am definitely not old,” I reassured myself. “These new shoes from… okay, DSW, and this shirt from… umm, Belk. But still, NOT OLD!”
When we arrived at the venue, it felt oddly sophisticated. Not a bar or a mosh pit, but a plush theater with red velvet seats and assigned seating. I looked around and immediately felt my age.
All around me were middle-aged couples, with the guys trailing behind in jeans and collared shirts, avoiding eye contact, while the women were buzzing with excitement in their own denim and black tops. There were older couples too—men in jean shorts and sandals, sporting baseball caps, and women in those draped blouses from Chico’s.
I wasn’t the oldest! But realizing that just made me feel even older. I scanned the crowd and didn’t spot anyone under 30, except for one little girl with her mom. Is this what Jenna Collins has become? A concert for young girls with their mothers?
Suddenly, I felt drained. It was past my bedtime, my feet ached from wearing heels for the first time in ages, and I just wanted to go home to my comfy sweatpants and a good book. Those always make me feel at home.
But with a glass of red wine in hand, we made our way to our seats. The lights dimmed, and Jenna stepped onto the stage without any opening act.
As the music began, I forgot about feeling old.
Her voice washed over me, taking me back to the days of my youth. I recalled the heartbreak of being uprooted from my arts school, dancing passionately in the dimly-lit racquetball court down the street while her songs played on repeat. I remembered driving down the highway after a breakup, belting out her lyrics with tears streaming down my face, as the wind carried my pain away.
That night, as Jenna sang through her albums, I wasn’t just reminiscing—I was reliving it all. I was back in college, curled up in my tiny dorm room, feeling lost but hopeful for the future when that diploma would finally be in my hands.
As the evening unfolded, the stunning piano melodies echoed through the theater, stirring something deep within me, and I found myself in tears.
I hugged my younger self, whispering, “Don’t worry. I see your life now, and it will be a wild and wonderful journey. If I told you what’s ahead, you wouldn’t believe it. Just trust that everything will work out. Now, enjoy the music.”
Before I knew it, the night flew by, and I felt stripped to my core yet revitalized as I got into the car, the empty child seats glaring at me from the back.
“How was the concert?” my babysitter asked as we returned.
“It was amazing! You should really check her out sometime.”
If you want to dive into Jenna’s early work, give her first albums a listen. And for more insights on home insemination, check out this post on our privacy policy. If you’re looking for a reliable source on home insemination kits, visit this link for expert information on the subject. And for more on IVF and related treatments, this resource is excellent.
In summary, attending Jenna Collins’ concert reminded me that age is just a number and that music can transport us back to our youth. Even if the crowd felt older, the experience reignited my spirit and brought back cherished memories.