Getting off the road, it’d be days before socks found their way into drawers.

This time around, I unpack immediately and put everything away.

You’re not on tour anymore, I tell myself. You’re home, and that’s ok.

I used to put off grocery shopping, feigning indigence that I should stoop to such quotidian lows as buying and preparing my own freaking steak.

This time around, I get right to dusting off pots and pans.

You’re not on tour anymore, I tell myself. You’re home, and that’s ok.

I used to look at a calendar without tour dates and break down in a trembly panic. Will we ever be busy again?

This time around, I’m intrigued by the possibilities of a schedule I’m entirely in charge of.

You’re not on tour anymore, I tell myself. You’re home, and that’s ok.