The house lights are dimmed. The introduction video has been played. The band has walked on stage to take their places to the gentle applause from the audience. I start my walk from the green room to the stage.
10 steps from the stage.
“Why am I doing this? Am I crazy?”
“What do you think gives you the right to do this again?”
“Who is out there?”
“What will people think of me?”
5 steps from the stage.
“Can I really do this? Still? It’s been so long…”
Step, Step, Step, 4, 3, 2, 1…
Pause
Standing on the edge between the light of the stage and darkness of the walkway.
Staring at the line between darkness and light. The line beyond which there’s no turning back.
One step to the stage.
The last step.
“Can I really do this?”
I took a deep breath. Then it happened. As if someone (Someone?) had flipped a switch.
That sense of “dead calmness” I have always felt for almost 20 years before stepping on stage returned. As familiar as an old friend.
The heart slows down.
The world fades away.
“Yes. I can do this.”
I took one more step forward. One last step. Out of the shadows.
Into the light.
Embraced by that familiar yet inexplicable sense of “loneliness”, I felt at peace. At last.
Not knowing who is out there in the darkness, I breathed a familiar prayer for them: “May these songs and words find you and touch you, wherever you are, whoever you may be.”
I picked up my guitar. I walked up to the mic.
I’ve found my way home.
