I thought I was pretty cool when I turned Led Zeppelin on in the minivan as my mom drove me to school. I was like, “listen to this cool band I found.”

I’ll never forget the look on her face—was it shock? Horror? Humor?

Maybe a little of those things, but mainly it was total irritation, and the first and only time I’ve ever seen my mom get possessive.

“Oh, this is YOUR favorite band?” She asked, and her right eyebrow shot up, which usually only happened when I was in trouble.

“This was my favorite band before you were even born.”

Oh snap, mom!

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At the time I was confused. Like, what’s the big deal?

But now that I’m watching high schoolers listening to Mazzy Star like they discovered Hope Sandoval...

I get it.

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Still, the beauty of art is in the sharing.

“OURS” has a much more powerful vibration than “MINE” or “YOURS.”

There’s enough holding onto things that shouldn’t be owned.

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And as I write this now, I’m thinking for the first time about how sweet and funny it is that both my mother and I were drawn to the same song, by the same band, at the same age in our respective lives.

Like mother, like daughter.