As a kid, waking up on weekends to my mom’s music blasting on her lit-up JBL speaker, followed by her opening my door to furiously sweep my bedroom floor and snatch my laundry, meant an unavoidable early morning. While it could be annoying, especially after an arduous week of elementary schooling, as a college student five hours away from home, I have come to greatly miss these moments.

The tunes of Jenni Rivera’s “Inolvidable” flowing in from my half-cracked bedroom door, along with the smell of eggs and chorizo, flooded my senses until I could no longer be annoyed at my mom — I just wanted a pair of tortillas. 

I long for those times when my mom not only filled the air with the scent of a Mexican meal and brewed Folgers, but also with chisme or lessons disguised as fun facts. Rivera’s music meant a recount of her controversies. Others, like Luis Miguel or Pedro Fernández, meant a spiel on her childhood crushes. Now, their music feels nostalgic. It allows me to escape into my memories when I’m far from home. 

Each member of my family, in their own way, left a musical imprint on me, introducing sounds that would shape the soundtrack of my memories. 

Lana Del Rey’s “Radio” and “Dark Paradise,” from her “Born To Die” album, take me back to when my sister would drive me home from elementary school. Looking out the window while “Sweet like cinnamon” rang in my ears, I was able to romanticize that 15-minute drive. 

Sometimes, when she had a few bucks to spare, we’d enjoy a nice caramel Frappuccino from Starbucks. Those sweet treats and “Born to Die” were a combo I have yet to let go of — one I return to often, missing my sister when Lana plays on the radio. 

My brother-in-law, on the other hand, introduced me to the wonderful world of Puerto Rican reggaetón and Dominican bachata, genres that remain ingrained in my everyday music rotation. Daddy Yankee, Wisin & Yandel and Prince Royce have gone triple platinum in my XM4s. 

Something about Royce’s bachata rendition of “Stand by Me” takes me back to his 2013 season in “La Voz Kids,” of which my mom and I never missed an episode. While DY’s “Pose” and WY’s round-up of Chris Brown and T-Pain in “Algo Me Gusta De Ti” remind me of those times I would hitch a ride home from family parties with my sister and her husband, tired of all the “Ya mero nos vamos” lies from my parents. 

When it was my brother’s turn to drive me home, he’d listen to random motivational music in the background of soccer compilation videos on YouTube, which made him an easy target for my jokes. But he introduced me to World Cup anthems such as K’NAAN’s nostalgic “Wavin’ Flag,” which made me appreciate the simplicity of his music-listening habits. 

That song not only reminds me of cold December evenings watching him play whatever new FIFA he got that Christmas, but also of my own soccer and video game-playing days with my cousins and nephew, which are unforgettable in their own right. 

We still play “Just Dance 4” on the Wii to this day, and whenever “You’re The First, The Last, My Everything” by Barry White or “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” by They Might Be Giants comes up, we laugh and sing along, feeling motivated to play another round. Those moments are archived in my Snapchat memories, and though they hated me for filming then, they love looking back on it now. 

Most recently, I went to Mexico with my dad and nephew. The music attached to those memories is more in tune with my current tastes and paired well with my dad’s storytelling, bringing my mom on the trip with us even though she couldn’t be there. 

“Ojitos Mentirosos” by Tropicalísimo Apache, accompanied by music from Los Pasteles Verdes and José José — both artists my mom introduced me to — and The Marías, Dijon and Blood Orange, music that found its way to me separate from my family, made up the soundtrack of my visit as my dad took me back to how he met my mom while we sat in the very spot where it happened. 

Growing up, my mom told me that “La Llamaban María” by José José told the story of when my parents first met at a party on a full-moon night. What my dad told me was the song bar for bar, and I remain convinced, though it may be a childish notion, that he somehow commissioned this famous singer to write what would become the theme of their wedding. I mean, my mom’s name is literally Maria.

What they have been able to do together is well deserving of a song to commemorate their relationship, so whether José José was stalking them at that party in 1987, only to record that song over a decade later in time for their wedding, is a mystery I do not want solved. 

The songs I’ve heard throughout my childhood, with special anecdotes woven into their harmonies and melodies, will always transport me back to those meaningful moments, whether it’s eating my mom’s breakfast or playing a round of “Just Dance” with my cousins. 

As I prepare for a long senior year and limited time with the family I have today, my love for these songs will only grow stronger, and whenever I listen to them, those stories, forever trapped within their lyrics, will make me feel at home.

“Jam Journal” is a rotating column featuring a new Daily Trojan editor in each installment commenting on the music most important to them. Vivian Mejia Juarez is a Chief Copy Editor at the Daily Trojan.