Leave The Light On

I’m sitting in the dark in a hotel room in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania after a family wedding. My son’s breathing is soft and steady as he sleeps. It’s 10:34 PM on a Friday night and the two of us exhausted ourselves on the dance floor. My husband is still at the reception with his side of the family. I’m a Wimer by marriage. The last time I saw the bride was nearly fourteen years ago at my own wedding. Watching her dance with her father made me tear up, thinking about how much has changed from when I got married and danced with my dad. I had never seen him so happy in my whole life at that moment. His faced beamed down at me as mine glowed.

Now I’m writing in the dark, but I’m leaving a little light on for Andrew when he comes back. Things are brighter in my life in the past three weeks since I last wrote about listening to music, curled up in the fetal position, listening to Tori Amos. This morning I bought a ticket to see Maggie Rogers play at The Anthem in Washington, D.C. in October. I was only able to score a single ticket, so it looks like it will be a solo date with myself. Yet, I’ve never been so happy to get a concert ticket. I’ve been listening to her album, Heard It In A Past Life, which dropped in January and has been on repeat on my Spotify ever since. It’s bittersweet, because my best friend in L.A. told me about Maggie Rogers ages ago, yet we can’t go together. East Coast/West Coast. I just texted her to tell her I miss her as I listen to the songs over and over again.

Music brings people together like nothing else. In my obsession, I came across this YouTube video of my favorite song “Light On” filmed in Paris. It starts out in dim light, with Maggie alone, singing. Then, the chorus starts, the lights come on, and there is a crowd of people singing along with her. It’s a little cheesy upon first watch, but then I thought more about it. The group of other random singers aren’t very diverse and they can’t really dance, but the second time I watched it, it made me smile. It reminded me of college parties, concerts where everyone knows the words, and friendships made from guitar strings, a couple chords, a collection of various vocal cords, and even a catchy refrain, a bit of laughter, cheering, and clapping.

Strings of lights overhead at the wedding reception tonight. Candles everywhere. I mean, everywhere. Major fire hazard. The hotel bathroom light on for my husband, whenever he walks in the door. The sunshine of spring. Longer days. Shorter nights. The steady glow of my laptop screen in my face. My headphones on so the boy can rest in his own silence. I fill that void of silence with all kinds of music. I fill the void of darkness with even the dimmest light.

My friend in L.A. just texted that she misses me too. We are all connected, aren’t we? Just leave the light on for ourselves, for one another. It’s going to be okay.