Satellite

Last night I was driving home from my internship and an acoustic version of Dave Matthews’ Satellite came on. It was such a mellow, slow, and almost sweet version of the song—I don’t think I’d ever heard that particular version before. As I listened I became mesmerized and nostalgic. I suddenly missed being a teenager and wanted in that instant nothing more but to hang out late with friends in the warm warm warm Tucson nights, drive with the windows down and the radio loud, and wear flip flops, tank-tops, and holey jeans.

I remembered going to Dave Matthews concerts, thinking to myself in naivety, “My kids will be amazed that I actually got to see Dave Matthews in concert!” Mom and Dad, this is the first time you’ve ever heard this, but I actually snuck into one of their concerts. They were playing at the Desert Sky Pavilion in Phoenix; my friends and I drove up without tickets, planning to buy them from scalpers once we got there. On the way, there was a huge monsoon storm…the type where the visibility drops to zero because of the dust, rain, and wind and everyone drives white knuckled. That made traffic terribly slow and by the time we got there, there was not a ticket to be found for under $200. Instead of turning around and driving another two hours home, we walked the perimeter of Desert Sky Pavilion (an outside arena with grass seating) and found a gap in the fence. If I remember correctly, the gap was high and at the end of a particular segment of fencing. Some concert attendees on the inside helped us dislodge the fencing even more so that we could climb through… everyone banded together to get us inside. As I jumped down, my skirt flipped up and I think people saw my underwear. Oops. The last of us made it through just as the police were coming. By the time they got there, we had disappeared into the sea of people, feeling smug, exhilarated and like it was meant to be.

And now…here I am. I don’t really get to go to concerts much anymore and I can’t remember the last time I jumped a fence, not to mention do something illegal. Of course my life is much richer, much more meaningful, and something I would never want to trade. I’m becoming my goals and am the happiest I think I’ve ever been. But it seems that the stakes are higher now, too. Between bills and decisions and ticking clocks and facing inadequacies in much more daunting ways, it is just so different from those days when I could stay out late in vintage clothing and know silly Dave Matthews songs by heart.