Last night, my husband and I saw Willie Nelson in concert.
What an amazing show it was.
Willie is one of my Dad’s favorite musicians. And, although I didn’t own an album of Willie Nelson’s until albums were scarcely sold and CDs were the norm, I did know more of Willie’s music than I thought I would, thanks to my Dad. In fact, while listening to Willie last night, I couldn’t help but see and hear my Dad singing along.
Music often conjures up memories of places and times that no longer exist. For me, that was the case last night.
When Willie sang certain songs, in fact, images of my Dad and of my childhood home flooded my mind. I could clearly recall the cerulean blue, textured carpet in my parent’s bedroom, the silver-finished Technics stereo system that would’ve played Willie over my dad’s floorstanding speakers, the morning sunlight streaming into their bedroom, the matching bedroom furniture set, the quirky, brass, half-moon shaped closet door pulls and the ham radio equipment in the corner.
I got lost in the music and the night. We’ve talked about seeing Willie for a long time now. Pardon the pun, but the idea has always been on my mind. I’m so glad we made it happen.
I just wish Dad could’ve been there to see Willie with us, too.