Monday, January 1, 2018

start here

The year is 2018. I haven't been 'productive' in years. In April, I'll turn 44. I haven't played a show in over two years. It used to be that my calendar was filled with shows, as many as 15 or more when I was on tour, or even just four or five, if it was a normal month. I keep having dreams about performing or even writing songs. Recently, I had a dream that I was testing out the stage monitors at a rather large venue. These kinds of dreams always end the same way; reality seeps in and a voice within myself reminds me: you haven't rehearsed, you haven't sung, you haven't written or recorded anything in so long.

I wake up. I'm surrounded by our dogs, my husband's arm is outstretched. I grab his hand, I blink myself awake. I'm in a comfortable bed, I'm in our apartment. The alarms start to go off. I'm older today. Responsibilities begin climbing into view. I'm still thinking about my dream, but now, I'm also thinking that I have to get up and make breakfast for my mom and help her get ready for the day program she attends. My mom's dementia is under control (to the degree that it can be). She has been living with us for almost two years now. She is 82. 

How did I get here. Is this the life I had been yearning for for so many years? What now? and WHY am I not recording and performing anymore?

My husband and I have a weird ritual in the morning. We each grab a chihuahua and hold them close; they stretch, they yawn, they lick our faces. It's our way of greeting the new day. It's often interrupted by the sound of text messages beeping in, or the calendar reminders sounding on our devices. My god, we're so connected to our devices.

I think about where I was several years ago, and where I was several years before that. Some memories, I just don't have any more; either because I don't want to have them, or they just aren't part of this timeline anymore. Other memories are engraved in me so profoundly; I can close my eyes and remember everything about a particular beach in Hawaii that I would often visit when I lived there. I can distinctly remember the smell of plumeria flowers, the taste of poke, all of the curves and bends along Oahu's Kamehameha Hwy. I also remember, in detail, the drive along Route 2, I-495N, and 95N from Northampton, MA to Portland, ME. These sorts of details, I remember pretty well. I remember my wedding day, sitting with my soon-to-be spouse in the park, just outside the restaurant where we were to be married later that morning. We shared a moment unlike any other I'll ever have. I guess, that would be the doorway to this current version of my life.

Maybe that's what I need to analyze here. The moments in my life where I can see the fork in the road, where I can feel the knob on the door, where I can read the menu before me... I used to tell my fellow musician friends, "Make good choices." I'm pretty sure I followed my own advice, but again, why am I not making music like I used to?