I found myself sitting alone by an empty chair last night as the final evening of the Third Ever Marathon Songwriters Festival got underway in the dance court of the Gage Hotel. As I looked at the chair, there was a bit of melancholy for the missing wife, gone a year now. Then a young girl asked if anyone was sitting there, and I said no, and I asked if she was with someone, and she said yes, and pointed to her boyfriend by the wall. I gave him my chair and just like that the future took its rightful place, two people side by side. And I went to walk about in the night.

I was alone in the sense that I was by myself, but totally accompanied otherwise, because sprinkled throughout the crowd were all the friends with whom I’d shared the weekend. And I could go sit beside them as I chose, and I did, moving from chair to chair, walking about, until just as the show was ending, I found myself sitting on a stone curb, by a tree close to the front of the stage off to the left, and the music was fine, and we were all happy.

And we gathered after the show at the house where I stayed, and we stayed up late, and sang and played guitars and then talked, being there for each other and with each other. And I knew this is how it is going to be. Me and my friends. Pair bonds, forming, letting loose, moving about, finding smiles when they’re given, support when needed. And maybe even peace. And then we said our goodbyes, and for some reason, I thought of my youth and Roy Rogers, and realized it wasn’t goodbye. It was just happy trails to you, until we meet again.