welcome home

Last night, I sat in a room surrounded by some of the most talented people I know. I sang along with musicians from Colorado and then hugged and kissed familiar and new people. I talked about my origins and they talked about theirs. And either the wine enlightened me to a point of drastic appreciation, or it was always there and there was never an opportunity to relish in it. But I sat there, and looked around the room, listening to acoustic guitar and a voice that gave me chills. All I could think, wow, what a great life I have. I’m so glad I’m staying. I’m so glad to be a part of a group that encourages my art, and I encourage theirs. They don’t need to take part in my everyday. They don’t need to know where I am at, every second of my life. They don’t want to either. And they don’t forget their strengths or weakness, or mine. And best of all, the conversations are real. Real people, real problems, mature outlooks on life, with the balance and energy of child’s play, and a balance between the harsh realities of this world and their ideals in fixing it. So much talent, so much strength and fragility. I’m so incredibly glad to be a part of it. My friend always says to me when he hugs me, “Welcome home.” Home I will stay.


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