It's been a busy couple of weeks, between Jazzfest and a Gallery Opening, I haven't had time to keep up with my thoughts. Maybe this is a good thing.
Jazzfest was different this year. It was difficult, it was emotional, but it was good to be with friends and experience the musical energy. You were missed. Somehow, I kept expecting you to come bouncing back into my booth with a big smile and a great story about someone you met while waiting in line for a mango freeze. Instead, I saw you in the eyes of friends and heard you in the musical breeze coming from the Blues tent, a favorite song reminding me of a different time. Jazzfest was not the same without you and I don't think it ever will be, but the familiarity of it all was comforting to me.
The Gallery opening was on Friday. It was a mix of good friends and total strangers which filled the studio with interesting conversation and laughter. It was a warm and wonderful evening you would have loved. I'm sure you were there. These past two weeks have been full of you, full of bittersweet moments and memories. I move through these days in a dream, keep getting up, keep moving forward, keep busy, keep breathing. Life pushes me, drags me through the day, encourages me to honor your memory with the good. Life dosen't stop, I can't stop it, but I carry you with my every step.
The house is quiet again, the friends all gone. The cat and I stared at each other this morning and resumed our normal routine and conversation. We find comfort in it. We like the world, enjoy it when it comes calling, but really, there's nothing like an old bath robe, a cat on your lap and stupid TV luring you into slumber. I sense you here in the quiet, in the silence. I feel your joy and hear your laughter at Jazzfest, but here, at home, I feel your heart.
It's good to be home again.