I’m swaying to the sound of the “Grateful Dead cover band,” as my husband jokingly referred to it earlier in the day. The stage in Manteo, NC, is in front of Roanoke Sound – with the water and the breeze adding to my mellow mood.

The people-watching is fantastic, as it always is at Dead-adjacent events. Everybody doing their thing, inspired by who knows what – the THC drinks on sale, new or decades-long affection for the music, friends, aromatic smoke? Tie-dye, dreadlocks, overalls, kids in strollers, polo shirts and flowing skirts.

The couple in front of me are dancing in more of a frenzy than most. In cut-off jean shorts, they are both jumping up and down, the man sometimes doing a circle, punching his fists, with a grin I can see when he turns around. He catches my eye and I nod at him.

Amid this, my husband shows me a text. I don’t check my texts during concerts (I love not checking them for hours). I stand still, looking at his phone. It takes a while for the gravity of the message to sink in.

We’ve been back in our house for barely three months after spending thirteen months in an apartment while our house was being rebuilt after a tree fell on it. We still haven’t finished everything on the “to-do” list.

The text message says we have two trees across our driveway and one almost hit a neighbor’s house.

Rather than logistics, my first thought is a worry. Am I going to have nightmares about this? How badly will this stress us out?

And then logistics. We’re six hours away.

My husband pockets his phone, and we’re both standing there, motionless, in the middle of the concert.

While I’m processing all of this, the frenzied dancer makes his way past me up the hill and leans into me, making sure I can hear him say, “That’s a great laugh.”

?!

I haven’t laughed, and I’m certainly not smiling.

I’m still reeling from the news, and I feel unexpectedly hurt. Was he calling me out for not being the “smiling woman”? For not dancing with him? For not having his experience? At a Dead concert?

And the irony? People do compliment me on my laugh – when I’m actually laughing.

I have some trees to deal with.