pWdumaNjA-6CEEBhRoD5euxNETs When All This Actual Life Played Out: I don't regret it

14 July 2015

I don't regret it

Somewhere in Utah
13 July 2015

The daughter and I zipped into Salt Lake City on Sunday evening, and zipped back out again this morning.

While we were sitting in SLC, the daughter made rather hopeful noises that I might consider going back to the ticket desk and purchasing a couple of air tickets to Calgary.

(Don't think that I wasn't tempted. I had both her passport and mine in my bag.)

I've never the finished the Texas stories--I need to if only for myself--and I'm far too tired right now to be eloquent about last night. And even if I were awake, I'm not sure that I could elucidate exactly what I felt.

Wild fun, to be sure. The bliss of immersion in the music, sometimes so intense that it's almost painful. The pleasure of my daughter clinging to my arm and screaming into my ear.

(The first time, she was seven. She fell asleep at the end, and I carried her out of the amphitheater. The next time, she was 10, and I held her on my hip so she could see while she sang and waved a light stick around with glee. Then again at 13, 14 and 15. At 16, she traveled with me for the first time, a memorable show in Denver with Deb. And last night as an adult.)

I used to keep track of the miles I traveled. At this point, I can't even imagine what that number would look like, though I could probably log it. But the miles are beside the point, and every mile, every trip on a plane, has been worth it.

If I calculated every hour that I spent, standing there, in whatever city, whatever state, whatever country, mesmerized, grateful, lost and in love, the actual number of hours would be very small. But the total return has been immense.

So much.

I never forget it.

Tech stuff: Taken with my NikonD7000.

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