I Can’t Go Back, but My HEART Goes On

With my 44th birthday rearing its ugly, wrinkled head tomorrow, I’ve recently realized that life moves on. Or it just really, really changes.

Case in point:

I’ve attended two HEART concerts in my lifetime. Once when I was a freshman in college, and the other a couple of weeks ago. HEART sang many of the same songs, but, WOW, my experience was very different.

When I went the first time, I was young and independent, the world at my feet. I went with one of my best friends-turned-very-briefly-boyfriend, John. We were several rows back from the stage, and I was so close I could see Nancy and Ann Wilson’s makeup as they crooned away about barracudas and a magic man. The smell of pot floated through the air behind me, and we watched in disappointment when other people drank their beers. We weren’t old enough yet. We were just wee babies at eighteen.

After listening to the concert and dancing and singing, we made our uneventful way home. I saved…
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