Birthday tears

I cried a lot last night.

It started in the Sydney Opera House lobby over a glass of Chandon. I was trying to tell Husband about a heartbreaking story I’d read in the Sunday papers. It was an extract from a book by a woman with motor neurone disease, who went wedding dress shopping with her 14-year-old daughter so she could see what she’d look like on her wedding day. I couldn’t even get the words out. Kept choking up, flapping my arms about to try and hold the blubbing back.

Then I kept tearing up all the way through the Neil Finn/Paul Kelly concert.

As each achingly familiar tune began, my eyes would mist.

And I’ve been trying to put my finger on exactly why.

Was I simply moved by the songwriting or the voices filling the auditorium?

Was it the reminder of the uplifting power of music?

Or the inspiration that I’d ask Husband to give me an ipod as a belated birthday gift – filled with my favourite songs – to help keep my black dog at bay?

Was I crying for the 45-year-old me sitting in the back row or the 18-year-old me who once pressed against the stage?

Was it remembering the boy that once sang One Step Ahead, now a grey-haired 54-year-old infusing the song with so many years of experience.

Was it the sound of thousands of voices rising up to sing Better Be Home Soon?

Was it the joy at being on a date with my husband.

Was it the calculation, as the concert entered its fifth hour, of what the babysitting bill would be?

I think it was all those things. And I loved every minute. Well, not the babysitting fee, but the rest was magic.

What’s the last concert you went to? How did it make you feel?