6. THE SAP OF A FAMILY TREE

By J.J. Colagrande

We were nestled on top of Marvin’s Mountain, inside the show, bro. Friday night, and the boys were playing—Kurtis and me love Further, so does Shore Morris, only Princess wasn’t familiar with the Grateful Dead, but she seemed open. I warmed up to her, despite her whining. She was a handful on the outside, but when I saw her around children, it felt impossible not to recognize her loving spirit. All Good. From the top of the hill, on the other side of the VIP camping fence, we looked down at the crazy neon circus. We were all together, as a family, and that’s all that really mattered. At the end of the day, that’s all that really matters. All the bells and whistles, the glow sticks and neon, well, they’re just signs we’re connected, bobbing electricity in a sea of togetherness, currents of day-glow worn like crowns of glory. All of us florescent Jah’s, the Force in full effect. Do I sound high? Well I wasn’t. Just a head full of love for me, no nugs, no swills, no pills, no powder. Powder and nugs? Nope. Just power and hugs, bro. What a night. The festival officially kicked off with that Friday night Further jam. The full moon hung at our backs on a crisp summer night. What a unique moment. And to me that was the whole point of Further’s set. To appreciate the moments. Things only get better with time. That’s a lesson. Remember, I had a life inside of me, one that already could hear the chords of melody. A young life that would soon bear witness to the fire dancers and all their twirling. So much to see, and if lost, my child will be guided by the lighthouse of laser from afar. On the horizon a Ferris wheel glowed, and one day my child will ride that wheel and it will continue to burst with a kaleidoscopic pattern of exploding color. Every few minutes, fire works exploded. Soon my child will see all of that glory in its summer peak. And beyond the shadows of the horizon of Marvin’s Mountaintop laid the unknown, the dark future–and when the darkness seems bleak, I will hold my baby’s hand until the sun once again rises. This went through my head as we danced to Further’s four-hour set, oblivious of the opium smokers and the kids on Molly making out. When you’re sober and pregnant things are definitely different. Sorry. We stayed in this spot on top of the hill, hanging in Wonderland, holding down the base, blessed with family. Patience repeated itself in my mind. Patience for the cycle of birth, patience for the night; for it was All Good, or at least it certainly appeared so.
.

.

.

.
.
.

CLICK HERE FOR NEXT EPISODE