Last Friday was the first Friday of August.
My Love and I showed up way early so we could be the first ones in line.
I took my first daughter to a rock concert.
Her first rock concert.
To see the first band I have ever been crazy about.
And we stood in the first row.
And they played her very favorite song. First.
I was so over whelmed with stupid joy that I stood there and cried.
Thank goodness for dark sunglasses.
It was quite simply one of those moments I was talking about last week.
One of those extraordinary moments on an ordinary day
that is worth stopping to celebrate. Woot!
There will be lots more Fridays. And long lines to stand in.
She will fall in love with other bands and go to many concerts.
But there will never be another first rock concert.
For the rest of her life, people will ask her which was her first one.
And she'll tell them about standing with me. In the first row.
How much do I love this?