The story of MAMA.

Fall 2020 I took my guitar down by the river on a gorgeous sunny day for a change of scenery and to practice. As I approached the park, I saw police presence everywhere. They were on foot, on horseback, on bicycles and in cruisers. As I slowly worked my way into the park, I paused to ask an officer if I should turn around. He said it was safe but that they were looking for "a female in medical distress". He seemed quite casual about it, but it was clear from the maybe 100 officers in the area that this wasn't a casual situation. I parked and walked down to the river's edge. I sat on a picnic table and played a bit, observing the joggers, picnic-ers, strollers and dogs, as well as the ever-growing search. It didn't take long for officers to start asking the public to help keep an eye out, and soon we had all paused our activities to join the effort. They told us that she absolutely needed to be found and they needed to make sure she was okay, and if we found her, we were to shout loudly and an officer would hurry over. 

As I searched, I wrote this song. 

I was struck so deeply by the idea that this woman likely had no clue anyone cared about her wellbeing, that she was probably in physical or mental pain that seemed insurmountable, and that she may have felt completely alone that day. Meanwhile 200 other human beings had come together to find her and help her. It was beautiful and heart-breaking at the same time. And I wanted so badly for her to know and feel that collective love. 

I had to leave before she was found, and I don't know the results of the search. 

This song is for her. 
It's also for anyone who identifies with the word Mama. 
It is for those who've experienced loss, and for those who have lost hope. It's about women holding each other up, people holding each other up, and it is meant to remind you that even in your darkest hour, you're not alone. You are trying your best. You are loved. We've got you. 

xo Sonia 


*Special thanks to Lisa, Allison, Judy, Tammy and Hayley for singing the last chorus with me, and for always being strong voices in my life.*