Mitch and I went to a Needtobreathe concert at the Orpheum last night. It was pretty rebellious of us to venture out on a school/work-night, but that’s exactly what we did.

We’ve seen them in concert twice now and both times they put on a spectacular show.

We arrived fairly early and had time to people-watch. M and I were toward the back, but not in bad seats. After opening songs from Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors, the boys kicked off performance #1 of their new tour. The air around us became thick with music and my head found his shoulder. I closed my eyes. Nothing else mattered. I tried to take it in. These thoughts playfully skipped through my head: “None of these people know us…who we are or what we’ve been through. They have problems of their own.” (Some of these troubles, such as being a forty-year-old drunk, lacking rhythm and inhibition, were blatantly, painfully obvious to the rest of us.) I had no worries.

Our first NTB concert was around this time a year ago. They decided last minute to do a show in Searcy at Harding and M surprised me with tickets. It was perfect. My stress levels (thyroid issues) were at an all-time high and the music of my favorite band was a welcomed distraction. It was a small show, relaxed and raw. We were able to spread out into the empty chairs around us without bumping elbows with strangers. Afterward, we topped off the evening with a midnight Wendy’s run – fries and a frosty. I was a happy girl.

This time, we had an UpperCrust dinner (my favorite!) and then headed for Memphis. We are either old or not recovered fully enough to handle late nights. We sneaked out just before eleven as the band was coming out for their encore. I was having trouble holding my head up.

I want more moments like these. Moments where we’ve taken hold of life, of a good time, just because we can. Moments where we are surrounded with goodness and lacking in worry. (In an attempt to capture/create a few such moments, we’re having a party! More on this to come…)

A metaphor with my gist is this: we are exhaling, sighing deeply. And then, in a fluid motion, inhaling. We fill our lungs with free air laced with scents of life. We have arrived back to a type of “normalcy.” Though we know it to be true, we don’t speak of or even entertain the thought that our diseases could someday return. That is not acceptable. All that matters is that now, we are home. We are safe. We are breathing.

And that, dear friends, is something beautiful.


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