The latest show—on our one-concert-a-month mission—came at the perfect time.

Our gorgeous and wonderful family trip ended with a whopping toothache that required an emergency root canal. Except the word emergency takes on a very different meaning when you have four kids at home feeling B-O-R-E-D after their vacation.

I wasn't able to fit in an appointment for six very long days, during which I wallowed in anti-inflammatory pills and misery. 

Add a list of post-vacation deadlines, and all I wanted to do was hide in the dark. 

So I did a lot of crying and pulled a bunch of late nights instead.

After finally being saved by a very talented endodontist, I left (ALONE!) for the big city, where two of my oldest friends were waiting. 

There is something very special about spending time with people who have known you since childhood. It's like a pat on the back or a familiar hug.

Look at us. We grew up. We did good. 

But it's also all-too-easy to go back to being very un-grown up—and isn't that the very best?

So it was, after 24 hours of debauchery and tom foolery, that JB came and met me in the city for our August concert.

Tired from my girls-only adventure and unhinged from the week behind me, I was really looking forward to the show.

Not only was the headlining band, Blue Rodeo, on my must-see list, but the opening act, Bahamas, has been playing on repeat for months—the lead singer's voice is like the coziest sweater you could ever wear. 

It was the perfect night for so many reasons: the breeze off the lake, the lights from the carnival dotting the sky behind the stage, the smell of cotton candy and corn dogs, the cold draft beer (handed to me only after an ID check), and best of all...the feeling in the air.

Blue Rodeo is Canadiana at its best. The crowd was filled with longtime fans, who knew the words to every song. We stood shoulder-to-shoulder and we sang. Some of us even snuck into the aisle to dance. 

It always moves me to stand in a sea of strangers—people I know nothing about and will never see again—singing lyrics to songs that mean different things to each of us.

They are narratives of private stories, but we sing them as part of a collective. 

For me, that's the magic at a concert that can never be captured on a screen.

I knew as soon as the first song began that it was a night I wanted to feel, so I kept my camera tucked away until the very last song. When Blue Rodeo invited Bahamas back onto the stage for the encore, I knew it was a moment worth re-living. 

Listen to the sound of 20,000 people singing the same song.

All of us lost together.







Elan Morgan

Elan Morgan is a writer and web designer who works through Elan.Works and is a designer and content editor at GenderAvenger. They have been seen in the Globe & Mail, Best Health, Woman's Day, and Flow magazines and at TEDxRegina and on CBC News and Radio. They believe in and work to grow both personal and professional quality, genuine community, and meaningful content online.