Pure, simple, sincere joy

If, in the course of human events, all of my dreams turn to smoke and life falls completely apart, I can say that I once had a perfect night.

It was one of those moments when the moon was in the seventh house and Jupiter aligned with Mars. The words and the music --- yeah, it all came together. And the disappointments of a lifetime, the heartache and the lies and the unkept promises, none of that mattered.

I don't know much about anything. I don't understand why little boys have to die on their way to Friday night football. It blows my mind why anybody would ever try to break another's heart. I simply can't figure out why you love somebody with all your being and that just doesn't seem to be enough.

Call me naive; I don't care. If I don't wear my heart on my sleeve, I'm not being honest with you. And that's the worst sin I could commit.

Dean and Ally and I ducked into Barley's about quarter of 7 tonight. I didn't care about Boomsday. What have you gained by watching a ton of fireworks explode anytime other than our nation's birthday?

I'm not knocking it. If you love it, more power to ya.

Anyway. I ordered a Carolina Blonde and had to wait on it and my pizza. Dean and Ally had Southwest wraps. Jaci was supposed to be here, but she had to head home. I just hope she's safe.

Robin showed up about 7:30 and started singin' about 8:15. I promised myself I wouldn't request a song. I don't want to mess up an artist's set list. Didn't want to be some jackass.

But I couldn't help myself.

"Sing 'Teardrops,'" I yelled.

She did.

I held back the tears and fought the sadness that wrapped its way into my throat. It's been a rough week. I won't lie.

But somewhere in that song, buried amid that talented dude's wailing steel guitar, and Robin's beautiful voice, lies one hell of a powerful truth.

I can't explain it. It's like that with music, or movies, Hemingway's prose or a beautiful woman's eyes. The feelings just happen. It's magical. It's wonderful. It's real.

I think I know why. It's the vulnerable honesty that lies between the lyrics of a line like "Love me for all that I lack." That's a sincere pleading we all can understand, if we tell the truth to ourselves.

I don't want the night to end. But of course, like all the others, it does.

Seems like I'm only happy anymore when I'm writing. Or watching baseball. Or listening to Robin sing.

I just hope she knows how special her talent is. How thankful I am she's here to brighten up the lonely night.

I hope she knows that she once gave a fan something more precious than silver or gold.

She gave her talent. Her voice carried me high and far, fast and strong on that silver eagle, rolling through the night.

When she sings, it's all so simple. There is a God in heaven. Two plus two equals four. Nice guys finish first. Evil is punished.

And for once, for one beautiful shining moment, I feel nothing but pure, simple, sincere joy.

Thanks, Robin.