Face to Face with.......

Facebook memories.....today's popped up and it was a picture of Trevor Keith and Scott Shiflett playing an acoustic set at the Troubadour. What gets me isn't just the memory of the show which was stellar but of the day itself. It was a beautiful summer Saturday. That mooring 18 people and a moving truck showed up to pack my life up and put in in storage for 8 months. Friends of mine from my recovery group, friends from high school, family, friends of my parents, men who I'd met through my ex husband..all these people gave up a Saturday to help my broken  little family move out and begin to move on. I rode on the adrenalin of the work for hours. Shuttling boxes in fire brigade fashion, stacking furniture, making trips back and forth from the storage unit back to what would soon never be my home again. I was then and remain still completely overwhelmed by the love and fellowship dumped on my family that day, There were plenty of hands to make light of the mountain of possessions that needed to be moved, lots of laughter and jokes. No time to really feel the weight of what was happening - it was just work. And then....the drop. I stood inside the empty rooms making sure nothing was missed. The space themed room wih the spray painted ceiling. The tie dyed sanctuary, the paint splattered 80's office, the bathroom my kids shared with their tiny little 1, 5 and 7 year old hand prints stamped onto the walls. I walked down the stairs for the last time soaking in the way the light glinted off the blonde wood floors that my ex husband had installed himself, the unfinished concrete floor in the kitchen and from over my shoulder my friend told me not to worry,,,,this was indeed my dream house but the next one would be my reality house and it would be better than Id imagine because it would be mine. She held me as I turned the key in the lock one last time and at that exact moment the key chain that had been a valentines gift from the ex broke. The tiny little heart at the bottom of the chain fell off. After I had a good cry and a shower I got in the car and drove to  Hollywood to hear my favorite band play an acoustic set at the Troubadour. That night as I stood outside with my good friend  and musical road dog I got to share my song lyric tattoos with the man who wrote the words. He wouldn't sign my ribs as he thought his wife would be uncomfortable with that and I appreciated his no. How nice to see the lead singer of my favorite band as a loyal husband as well as a kick ass songwriter. I admired him more in that moment than ever before or since. We went inside after I finished my smoke and enjoyed the show. Driving home it hit me how lucky I really am. Marriage or no, big house or no. I have music, friends and love.That's more than most folks.