It’s been five days since we arrived home, and I still feel off-balance, as if the normal routines of my life are something alien to me. Reality has burned like a cold iron this time as I plunge into a situation of stress and change, and the tour seems like it was a thousand years ago. Such is the nature of coming home.
The memories are still sharp— if I close my eyes I can smell the cool breeze of the Pacific and feel the steam rising off the sand. I can see the sunrise on the salt flats and remember the way Ayden laughed or the look on Amanda’s face when we’d whisper to each other, “We have a show today!” Waterfalls. Heat exhaustion. Pillow fights. Doughnuts. Three-AM laughter and poetry and rosin on my strings. These are the memories I’ll take with me the rest of my life. These are the stories I’ll tell my kids when they are old enough to understand, just as my dad told me stories about his tours. For the chance to make these memories, I’m extremely grateful.
Last Saturday, I rejoined my bandmates after an eternal three-day separation to play at a mini music festival hosted at my house. We got to enjoy other artists such as The Painted Soul, Watching Judas, M.C. Smithfield, and Piano Social. We played a set with Josh, our accordionist, for the first time since Cornerstone, and it was wonderful to have him back. The crowd was live; we were on our game. My parents remarked that we sounded worlds better than the last time they’d heard us. That’s what 23 shows in 37 days will do to you.
It’s impossible to tie up all the loose ends neatly after a trip like this, but the journey has drawn to a close. Insomniac Folklore plans to play out around St. Louis, and I’m sure it won’t be long before Tyler starts booking another tour.
In the meantime, my new journey is here, with my family. Time to buckle down and stay put for a while, to help sort what needs to be sorted and build what needs to be built. Thanks for coming on my travels with me, dear readers. Until next time.
~Lisa Shafter
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