I've eluded to it in a previous post but I haven't taken the time to really celebrate an upcoming event that is of utmost importance in my life: The Phoenix U2 concert in April.
The first half of my excitement involves everything about the trip itself. I'm going somewhere WEST of the mighty Mississippi, territory I've never been before. The furthest I've ever traveled in that "to the left" direction was Michigan for the Olympics of the Mind World competition back in 7th grade. So the mere distance I will be from my home is exciting. And, it's warm there and considering we're getting yet another 12-18 inches of snow tonight, April cannot come soon enough
Coupled with that is the excitement of going and doing something just for me. Since deciding to stay at home with Bam-Bam, the me time has taken a huge hit. On one hand I'm incredibly thankful that we have been blessed enough to allow me to continue to be here with him day in and day out. But on the other hand, day in and day out is challenging and there are times in which I start forgetting who I am inside this body of mom. There used to be a time I swore I'd never be able to handle it. I've surprised myself with how I've managed but there is still that voice in there saying "Be YOU". So, for four days in April, I'm going to do just that with abandon.
The other half of my anticipation balances fully on the reason behind the trip. U2! I have been in love with them since the Boy album on through How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb-with the exception of the Zooropa (I own but never listened to) and Pop (never even bothered to buy) albums because they just walked away from who they were for a while and that just sucked.
There is at least one song on every album that just soaks into the very heart of who I am, where I've been, who I've loved, and who's loved me. I love that reality. I love knowing that I can pick an album and feel like home or a warm blanket or a strong hug.
October, The Unforgettable Fire and The Joshua Tree are the reminiscent me of really wonderful times in junior high and high school when I was loved with a depth and passion unmatched. When I was the center of his universe and he was mine in spite of what my parents thought. When all I cared about was being with him. Cheering him through his football games and singing songs in his ears at the dances. It was love both innocent and carnal. Then it came to an end. With it, a hiatus of sorts for U2 as well.
What followed was a night to forget, many more days and nights I barely remember, a wolf in valedictorian clothing and nothing to connect to.
With Rattle and Hum and Achtung Baby came a new him. Nothing like the old him although I loved him. I won't deny that I loved him, that would be foolish. But the new him was a taker and I let him take because I'm a giver. It was good, at the time, and in the middle of it all I healed from my time with the wolf and prepared myself for the album to follow. But in the middle there was Zooropa and Pop where, like the band, I walked away from who I was.
The Best Of 1980-1990 was released and with it came the Best of the Hims. He was the him with the ring and the promise and the future. He was the him with the house and the kids and the happily ever after. He's been there through the fight for the boy, the fight for us and All that You Can't Leave Behind.
Even with the Best of the Hims there was trouble and from the bottom of the rubble came How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb. The battles were ugly and long and painful albeit necessary. Now I think we've cut the right wire. I think we've found the comfortable place where we can live and grow and be without the fears of exploding. The place where good parents thrive, where good spouses give more than they take and where the individuals take pride in the success of the other.
As I stand at my seat in Phoenix in April, I will think of the hims and the Best of the Hims. I will reflect on my journey, where I've been and where I'm going. There will be more healing, more promise, more song, more love.