|Elisabeth singing at the Blue Note|
It's not getting that the grind of the tour (unloading the van singing loading the van driving to next gig repeat a billion times) beats staying at home hands down any day. Or being terrified broke freelancing rather than secure full time working so another stab at that blank page can be attempted.
It's not even understanding the so-call choice of living so precariously and being whatever this is we are makes sense because to choose otherwise would mean you might as well die inside and we both know a whole lot of the walking dead so no thank you.
It's standing shoulder to shoulder or drink to drink in the middle of a brutal night of loss or disappointment and holding the space for better times so writing and singing can still go on even when everything inside wants to stop.
And sometimes it's even more than that. It's listening to her song unlock my own words and then filling that blank page with a surprising story.