I was supposed to play a show in Chicago tonight with Tommi Zender, but we cancelled it.  Even though the never-ending bronchitis is finally on its way out, I still didn't think anyone would enjoy hearing me cough my way through my catalogue.  

Myself included. 

Anyway, this week, my mom turned 70.  I threw her a little party at my restaurant, The Norwegian (which--fingers crossed--is just 4 final inspections away from being open). I watched mom and her friends laugh and throw back drinks all night, and I couldn't help but think about the passage of time. 

Humans don't seem to love it. 

Myself included. 

Largely because--as time passes--things change.  And things changing doesn't usually feel good.  I crave familiarity and control. I like to walk well-trodden paths and stick to them.  I like getting good at something, and then never deviating from it. 

Which is to say: I like everything to stay the same. 

I remember after dad died, I just wanted to go back in time, before everything changed.  Then a few years later, my daughter was born with a bizarre illness that rocked our world, and I remember thinking that I wished I could go back in time, before everything changed.  Fast forward to day: I've experienced hundreds--if not thousands--of times while building my restaurant that I've felt defeated, and I've wanted nothing more than to go back in time before everything changed. 

You get where I'm going with this. 

Reader, the older I get, the more I realize: there's no going back.  There is just the present, and it is never the same. People come and go from our lives.  We move.  We change schools and jobs. We change the way we look, the way we act, and the way we feel. Imagine trying to stick to the same comfortable path that we cut at 7 and at 70.  

It's comical. 

Change is inevitable.  Every step we take is uncertain.  The scenery is never the same, nor is the company.  Once we gain a bit of wisdom, the rug is pulled out from under us, and we flounder again.  Our only recourse?  For me, it's taking a moment to grieve what has passed, and then plunging head-first into the present moment with the ever-evolving cast of people in my world.  I try to keep adapting and evolving.  I'm not good at it, but still, I keep navigating my latest scenario. 

Which at this moment, is sleepiness.  Everyone in this house is going to bed. 

Myself included. 

I'll see you next Sunday. -Em