Not exactly sure which I'd label the more stressful event of the past month - a tornado unexpectedly ripping through my neighborhood late one afternoon or my five year old son starting Kindergarten. If I had to lay money down, I'd probably go with the latter.
Seems like only a moment ago my wife and I brought my son home from the hospital that sunny spring afternoon, quietly watching him sleep as we shared a bowl of cereal, both of us too exhausted and drained by the previous 48 hours to make a decent meal for ourselves. Now as my son ambles down the street each morning toting a "Transformers" backpack almost as big as him stuffed with mini-textbooks, lunch and a toy chicken (don't ask), I can't help but marvel at the passage of time.
After the morning schoolyard drop-off, the house strangely silent, my wife at work and my studio computers yet to rev up for the day, I sit with a wandering mind in front of yet another bowl of cereal. After splitting my time over the past five years between caring for my son and freelance music work, I'm suddenly feeling out of balance, off base, kind of like those poor trees on my block post-tornado. It's certainly been a whirlwind half decade and now with my new album out into the world (kind of like a second child) and my son taking his first steps from the fold, I suppose the nest is feeling a tad empty.
As I trip over a toy and make my way from a quiet Camp Elmo down to my studio space, I realize I'm holding an expression on my face not unlike that of my son's as he walks through those schoolhouse doors each morning, both of us facing the future with equal parts melancholy and excitement for the new twists and turns that lie ahead.