Day 21: Home Came to Visit (Anaheim to Garden Grove)

That’s a wrap.

My last day of tour, and my birthday, was unforgettable.

I was never big on birthdays, but about five years ago I realized that aging is a privilege: the alternative to growing old is not living. Since then, I’ve learned to welcome the love that comes my way every November second.

The day started with a flood of calls and messages, a run, and a great breakfast with the band. By load-in, I already felt beyond lucky. Even more so when my partner arrived, just as we’d planned, to celebrate together.

Home came to visit.

She and the rest of our road family pulled off a mid-set surprise; cake and a birthday serenade, right on stage. That’s the sort of thing I’d have rolled my eyes at in the past, but age brings gratitude when you learn to appreciate what you have.

Some of my favorite people in the world were there; old touring friends, musicians I am a fan of, folks who’ve visited me back on the island, friends who swing by when they’re in Chicago. For one night, many of my worlds overlapped, right in front of the stage.

After the show, a singer from another band invited me into his camper for a quick moment.

“Listen to me,” he said. “I just turned sixty. These go by too fast. Take a minute with me, right now, right now and you’ll never forget where you were today.”

He poured Jägermeister into two coffee cups. “This is how you slow it down. Do something intentional and small, and you’ll remember it forever.”

“Salud,” I replied. We knocked them back.

Eventually, after everyone hugged it out, I headed to the hotel with my partner, thinking about how fortunate I am. When you pour your heart into something, it’s not that you “never work a day in your life,” it’s actually the hardest work you’ll ever do. But you don’t mind, because you’re building something of your own design.

You’re building a home.