Yesterday my allergies had my eyes an itchy mess and my sinuses burning. It was a perfect spring day, full of sunshine and warm winds, but I was dragging myself through the hours. My guy and I had plans to go out. In the late afternoon I let my eyelids slide shut as I stretched out on the couch for a disco nap.
Maybe we should just stay in, I thought to myself as I began to drift off.
On the heels of that thought was this: How do I really want to live this life?
Friends we rarely see had decided to meet us, and the band we were headed to hear a favorite. Rest would definitely wait. My guy and I scrambled to put on some going-out clothes, put in an Uber request, and went off into the warm evening.
And you know what? I wasn't sorry we went.
I'm never sorry when we go out for a night of live music and friendship. We stood at the stage's edge for three hours last night. The big doors of the venue stood open to the night breeze, and the stage curtains fluttered along with the peachy-colored tiers of the lead singer's dress. The band took over the night, and I forgot how rotten I felt earlier in the day.
Last night's band, The Ragbirds.
This afternoon as my husband and I walked the pups I said to him that in spite of my aching left heel and the hitch in my lower back from the time standing on a cement floor - and forget about the fact that my head didn't hit the pillow until the early morning hours - when I am an old woman I do not want to remember that Wow! I was always so rested on Sundays!
I want to remember that on Saturday nights my husband put his arms around me and that we moved together to the music, buzzed on vodka tonics, electric guitar, and each other.
I want to remember the luminous lyrics and the perfect harmonies, and how I could feel my own creativity whip itself up so that I felt the urge to go home and write until the sun came up.
I want to remember that guitarist, black curls obscuring his features, sweat sliding down his temples, eyes practically rolling back in his head because he took himself to another plane with his music, and how we all went along for the ride.
I want to remember how I stood, transfixed, feeling the bass beat thump in my chest, percussion and mandolin weaving magic around me and my man.
I want to remember how my friends and I rallied around musicians, time stopped, singing along, sharing in something so out of this world we will talk about it for years to come.
Last night, for a five dollar cover charge and the cost of an Uber and a little sleep, I lived so deeply and so big.
That's what I want to remember.
What did you do last night?
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If you love music like I do, check out this blog post.