I found this CD stacked on other CDs on my TV stand. I bought it during a casual trip to a thrift store, flipping through a rack of mostly scratched or irrelevant discs when Tina Turner’s name suddenly caught my attention. It felt like discovering a small piece of my childhood, the kind of music played in the background of car rides, weekend cleaning days, and moments where my mom would hum along as if the songs were written for her. Without thinking twice, I bought it.

Despite how meaningful the find felt, the CD eventually blended into the rest of my collection, rarely played but always familiar. It’s one of those objects that holds its value through memory rather than use. Even untouched, it symbolizes the memories with my mom. Whether or not I ever listen to it in full, it remains a sentimental piece that reminds me of her voice, her music taste, and the comfort of songs that stay with you long after childhood.