Like a Shooting Star Fades

Part 1

There are fans. Fans in every city, every venue. Outside every hotel, in every airport, at every media appearance. And they're great, honestly. They're passionate without being crazy, and friendly without being intrusive. We give them our time, our autographs, and we bear our inner selves onstage for them. Its a symbiotic relationship and it works.

This is like any other show. They've been lining up for hours, chattering excitedly to others in the line. The air is electric as we wait in the wings, the light dimming and the sound swelling, as if these two sensations are operated by the same switch.

I take my place on the stage, feeling that familiar pride growing in my throat. I love these people, I really do. We are connected in this space, bound together by our love of this music.

He counts us in and the lights are up. I am momentarily blind, letting my focus come back to me like a gentle wave. They're a good looking crowd, and there's a decent number of guys out there too. I like that. I feel like it legitimizes us. I'm halfway into the first song, I hadn't even noticed. It's just muscle memory these days.

I catch someone's eye. She's pretty, not stunning, but definitively easy on the eyes. I continue to scan the room, getting a feel for the crowd, and then there she is again. We lock eyes. She smiles at me. Warm, genuine. She is singing along, and dancing. She looks happy. She isn't making eyes at me, or freaking out, she is just enjoying herself. It makes me glad, and I hold her eyes, smiling as I sing.

She is standing right in my eyeline. I have trouble pulling my gaze away from her. Sometimes she is singing right to me, sometimes she is dancing and laughing with the girls around her. She takes out her phone once or twice and snaps a picture. I appreciate this, she isn't watching me through a screen the whole time. At one point I catch her with her eyes closed, mouthing the words like she is in her own world. I love it. She loves the music, and I feel connected to her.

It's the end of the show and we are leaving the stage. She is smiling, she looks elated. It feels like a bubble is filling and popping in my stomach. This is why I do this. This is why I started music in the first place. Its moments like this when my chosen road makes total sense to me. When someone really gets it, and I feel like it's all been worth it.

We're outside after the show. I sign the things that are thrust towards me, I smile as a myriad of flashes illuminate the alley. She isn't there, and I'm disappointed. And glad, simultaneously. Maybe she had somewhere to be. Maybe she just isn't the kind of fan who needs that contact. Maybe the music is enough. That's what I want to believe.