I'll be back, thought, the week of the 4th of July. We've rented a cabin with the Allens and made arrangements from all of the boys (J.P., Joe and Cooper) to attend the St. Andrews Sewanee sports camp that week.
Thankfully, my outlook improved Saturday afternoon and evening, in part due to an outstanding night at Bonnaroo.
When I wandered into Bonnaroo Saturday afternoon my myself, I grabbed a beer and watched Larkin Poe, on the Who stage. I walked over to see Midland (a country cover band) early, so I could get up front. Once the band started playing, I felt a community of spirit with the people watching, even with the band. Everyone was having a good time and it was a moment to enjoy, for sure. It was a release for me, as I was reminded why I return to Bonnaroo each year. To get away from my responsibilities, to listen to music, to be by myself but with others, too, and to unwind.
During the Midland show, Derek texted me and told me that our crew was behind me. That was a nice coincidence or, maybe, providence. It was good to see the guys again. We walked over to see and L.A., all girls punk band, the Regrettes, at the Who stage. I think my brief foray into a minor league mosh pit during the show helped improve my mood, too.
Next, Steve and I walked over to see Old Crow Medicine Show, which was fantastic. It was the musical highlight for me this year at Bonnaroo. Evening falling, gorgeous weather and great music.
I drove over yesterday late afternoon and met up with Bonnaroo Bill, Derek and his wife, Shanna, who drove up for the afternoon. We hung out for a little while, then I stood on the front row to watch part of the Grand Ole Opry's first ever live performance at Bonnaroo. That was fun, too. I shut it down about 9 p.m., took my last rickshaw ride back to my truck and drove to the cabin. Unfortunately, I had to work for 2 + hours on a mediation statement that needed to be revised by this morning. Back to the grind.
As an aside, this blog has evolved into a type of therapy for me, I think. I don't know what depression is or what it feels like, but I suspect, at times, I may dip slip in and out of those waters as I contemplate my mom's fate and the seeming unfairness of it all. It helps me to know that somewhere out there, at least a few people are reading what I write and, at the very least, thinking about my mom, my family and, I guess, me.
So, if you're reading this, thank you. It helps. It really does.
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