The show's over.
But part of me sticks around in that night - it always does after a show - trying to remember each face in the crowd, feedback, which folks were totally into it, their head following the melody, the ones singing along. Who came? Who couldn't make it? Who surprised me and showed up?
It's always the people that matter. And the people... they were good to me, to us. They listened and responded, with their eyes, and post-show conversation.
Then there's the ones who shared the stage with me, who put hours of practice and planning into this night. Jeff, Matthew, Katie, Ty, Wes. The ones who gave of their gifts, though what I give them in return isn't much of anything. Who give because they want to see the fruit of good music and people responding to it. For them, I am flooded with gratitude.
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| Photo Credit: Kelly Angel |
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| Photo Credit: Kelly Angel |
You see, there's so much anticipation, so much work that goes into preparing for this one hour, one hour. But beyond that one hour is much more: the CD playing in someone's car, the blog-reader who will keep up with what I'm writing on here, the new drummer who's inspired to keep playing because Jeff is awesome. The teenage girl from south Mississippi who wept and felt understood when she heard, "Now you've gone to Carolina; you've left your old life behind...," because her own dad has had to make a difficult decision to move to North Carolina, leaving them to miss him more than he might know.
The show might be over, but the story is not, the listening is not.
I'm still reading; I'm still listening. And hopefully, so are you.
