UNPLUGGED: DESERT TRIP INDIO

I forgot my phone at Oldchella. Here's what happened.

"Nobody knows how loud your heart gets" -Lucius

Running with the pounding of the great speakers that surround the full roar of 100,000 humans.

Collectively riding a feeling, rooting for the old guys, the underdogs of these ageist times we thrive in.

I weave in and out of the crowd, both acutely aware and blissfully unconcerned of my social standings in this totemic hierarchy of red ropes, security checkpoints, and a plethora of colored wristband options and limitations.

My dirty suede boots that are beginning to tear abruptly stop in front of one of the five house-sized screens. I lift my messy-locks and am face to face with the image of a smiling Keith Richards.

I'm covered in chills.

I feel everything.

All of my heaviness turns to great, warm, wet, happy tears. They fall into my bare, sunburnt collarbone in grateful procession.

My hands are as empty as my pockets. In my excitement, I didn't bring a cold beer, a lighter, anything.

I didn't take my phone.

I simply was... there.

"I know I dreamed you, a sin and a lie" .."

I think about all of the lives I've lived, and all of the moments we all accumulate. Where does it all go? How great a feeling to live a joyful few minutes, undocumented. Living only for myself.

I think of who could be standing next to me. My dad, who loves the Rolling Stones as much as he loves the Red Sox. My mom, the original wild horse. My friends, former lovers...

I quietly place every face I've loved in front of my eyes, scanning over each one like a Rolodex.

Bittersweet loneliness comes over me in one of the most alive moments my cells have felt in too long of a time.

"Hi, I love you, and I wish you could see this."

"Hi, I miss everything, and I wish you were here."

"Hi. I'm sorry for hurting you... and I hope you can feel this."

Send them love and light. And then LET GO.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away..."

"we didn't sing it long

'Cos it's fading away

First the sun and then the moon

One of them will be round soon

Slipping away"

Thank you, Stones. 

With quiet gratitude, 

Jillian Prendergast