It was late.
It was far away.
It was foreign- something we “used to do”.
It had been a longggggg 10 days prior, complete with travel and a funeral.
There were a multitude of reasons why we could raincheck this date . . . but we didn’t.
We ate at a sushi spot one minute from home and when we still had 45 minutes until the main act came on stage, we decided to “pre-game” with my 87 year-old father who lived close-by.
It. was. the best.
It’s been 7 years since my husband and I have had a conversation with my dad without children nearby. And it’s been nearly that long since we’ve gone to a live show together.
There we stood with a crowd of others that, I pointed out, had at least one thing in common with us- an adoration for this band.
Lord Huron began with a song I frequently listen to as I write “Love Like Ghosts” and immediately I was catapulted into my writing space.
My face lit like the sun itself so I stretched out my arms and danced.
I had taken a step- into the unfamiliar, into the faraway- but I was home.
We sang, we danced, we remembered what it felt like to step into our space and realized, it was worth the distance.