... there are no words for the euphoria enjoyed on March 31st at the Hollywood Bowl. I'll be honest, it seemed unthinkable that you and I could share a moment when I used to stare at old vinyl records in 7th grade that were already 20 years old. You've been the man in my life. The Beatles have been my stalwart, magical uncles always there, picking me up, dusting me off, "Come on girl... it's not that serious..." and there you were again. You and me. And you were telling me the same things you've always told me but they mean more now. Because you're older. I'm older. The advice, the fact that we've carried on and that the messages are still the same -- it all means more now. I'm glad I didn't see you when I was fifteen and crazy for you. I'm glad I didn't see you when it would have been convenient in my 20's . You weren't ready. You couldn't bear to sing those songs yet, to hear those words again. I wasn't ready. There was still so much of my life you were going to see me through. I needed to go through it and I did. I'm still alive. So are you. And we're on the other side of so much now. Thank you for scanning the audience, for embracing the messages, for being there again, and ever, and always.
You'll never know.
Or maybe you do.
ps. Thanks to Corissa who made it all possible, for kicking my butt, for telling me it was time.
