A few nights ago, as I posted earlier, Dave and I enjoyed an Avett Brothers concert. And on the stage that night there was so much energy and so little inhibition that I felt that pang in my chest, that siren sound reminding me that nothing is final or settled. It felt hopeful, as hopeful as I did towards the end of college. It felt on the brink of something, of some sort of breakthrough. Now, I am certainly vulnerable to fits of emotional upheaval. But standing on that lawn on the last night of September with the forceful strumming of a banjo and bass and the crooning of a North Carolina band in my ears was enough to elicit a reaction from even the most stone faced of the audience.
I thought many a things on that lawn.
I thought I should start taking piano lessons again, be more empathetic, and read everything.
I should wear more flannel.
I should "decide what to be and go be it."
Who doesn't love a great show?
I leave you this to take you there:
Next up? Indigo Girls.
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