Leaning on my elbows, my toes touched the lush, green grass. The hot sun peaked at the tip of my giant floppy hat and seeing the Colorado mountains behind the stage, the smooth sound of an electric guitar took my breath away.
2a.m. is early. Despite the renegade ambiance and stillness the middle of the night symbolizes, when an overzealous (and annoyingly) triumphant alarm sounds to remind me of the looming road trip, I am slightly grumpy. Trekking to Denver, Robbie (my night owl) and I snuggle yet again into the bucket seats of my SUV for another journey to the wild west. This time for a legend: Bob Dylan.
Arriving at the venue, the blanket was spread on the grass and we grabbed a delicious pilsner to settle in for a show.
Live music is magical. While the experience is different for everyone, I usually find myself in a fit of giggles because of the rich people-watching. (Gyms are also great for this. There was a guy pretending to give birth while doing bicep curls the other day. Oh mercy…)
In the haze of non-medicinal pot, were modern hippies a week past a shower, in 90s cut-offs and toting fanny packs. I’ve never seen anyone dance with a pizza box quite like these women.
While the interpretative dancing stood in front of us, the majestic sounds stole the spotlight and wooed me to my core. Wholly relaxed, the grass became my living room floor and I laid down to listen to the music. I closed my eyes and heard what falling in love sounds like.
Standing up to jive with Robbie for a few songs, the sky turned black and soon cold drops splattered from the heavens. While some shrieked and many more ran for cover, there we stood in the rain. Maybe we were ragamuffins in our own way. Maybe we didn’t mind the rain. We stood still as the world moved. The rain muted everything but the music.
There is something beautiful about rain. Whether it is cleansing, calming, or the inner peace one feels standing in the rain, we experienced a revolution just standing there listening. Melodies took flight. Minor chords lead to major harmonies. Beauty simply existed.
The rain was over as quickly as it started and the sun began its descent. Bob Dylan crooned and banged the piano at will soon after and laying under the twinkling stars with my love, we dreamed of our future. In whispers, we planned remodels of dream kitchens, our dream jobs, and living in the city.
Later on that night, Robbie and I along with his brother Simon and his dad sat on the patio to discuss the show. His dad lit up sharing stories of Bob Dylan shows throughout the years and silently I sat enjoying the glimpse into the love of music from the Thomsen men. While their laughs are different, their smiles are the same.
Also, floppy hats cause problems in photos.