I was five. I had my uncle’s old blanket with airplanes on it. It was heavy. It wasn’t soft. It smelled like time. It was mine.
That blanket was my first stage. My first record player spinning the Beatles…Young Beatles…pre-drug Beatles…
And there I stood, singing my heart out about holding hands…
It took 30 years before that blanket became a stage. 30 years before I even really tried.
I miss that blanket.
But the stage will do.
I love the life I live, and I live the life I love.