Madison Monday: That post-festival feeling

This morning I’ve got that post-festival feeling. You know what I mean? You know that feeling?

You go to bed sleepy and sweaty and smelling of sun tan lotion and maybe just a little bit drunk. You dream about music and rain and children running. Always children running. Sometimes in large packs and sometimes in twosomes. You dream about the four girls you saw running across the grass barefoot in white dresses, and then the fifth bringing up the rear. Not more than two or three years old, her face turned towards the ground in concentration, her little arms pumping back and forth with the effort of keeping up.

Photo courtesy Theresa Strohl

You dream about being up in front of the stage in your cowboy boots dancing to cajun music. Your cowboy boots give you superhuman dancing ability. All your friends are there. All your favorite people in the world are dancing, too. Right there with you. And when you’re exhausted, you grab your sweetheart’s hand and you walk up the hill and home.

You dream about hearing music echo through the valley of your little town that must bounce up again its own shadow. It’s that old, the music. You think the hills and the river remember. You think maybe all of you remember, somewhere down inside. You watch a girl dance up to a man in the dark and you believe the music might have the power to cast a spell. Soon, you will all be behaving in strange and inexplicable ways. The music has awakened something.

You sleep very late because you want these dreams to last as long as they possibly can. When you wake up, the sun is shining. Summer is here. The church next door has their windows open and you can hear the church choir. You can hear the sermon. You can sit on the couch with your cup of tea and listen.

Maybe you will go to the coffee shop today. Maybe the bookstore. Maybe you won’t move from the couch. But there’s the memory of the dancing and the children and the music. And it makes everything seem okay. All right. Full of goodness. You know what I mean?

Dedicated to all the hard-working folks who work their asses off to make River Roots happen every year.