Because this is the only “now” I have, I’m going to the Folks Festival

There are several weeks until the 20th Annual Folks Festival in Lyons. Weeks for me to think about how hot the sun will be and how much I love the tang of high mountain air. They are weeks when I will be Walkin’ in Memphis with Marc Cohn as I drive my old Saturn to the grocery store. Evenings when I will sit on my deck watching my unruly dogs romp in the yard as I listen to my son plunking away on a panjo that is part his talent and part something I used to make good stir fry in. I will lick my lips in anticipation, ready to gulp down the flavor of John Prine’s story-songs one more time. And even if it pours rain for three days, even if the electrical goes out in a puff of blue smoke; I know I am bound to have a great time.

Last year was the year of laying in bed all the time and lots of surgeries and wrestling with the Big C that decided to invade my womanly secrets. Last summer was the summer of medicine haze and get-to-go-nowhere. But this summer. This summer is the summer of go to the music and dance even if the Big C made you look 100 years old and stole the luster from your hair. This is the summer of paint the walls yellow and turquoise. Paint the front door purple. Cook only foods you like. The summer I remember to ask the important question at every sunrise: What are you waiting for? This is the only “now” you get.

Be present with me at the Folks Festival. It will be three days of laughter with strangers. Unexpected pleasures and small-but-significant moments. Three days of being alive, tasting the music and hearing the earth. Three days of creating a wonderful chapter in your own story. After all, this is the only “now” that you get, too.