Last week I danced until two puffy little blisters formed on the pads at the bottom of my feet. It was 1,000 degrees and 100% humidity. It was at least five hours past my bedtime and half-way through singing along to “Don’t Stop Believing” with the after-concert bar band before I realized that it was 1,000 degrees, 100% humidity, five hours past my bedtime and I had two puffy little blisters on the bottom of my feet.

And it might be time to go home.

Have you ever had one of those nights where time doesn’t really mean anything? Where you’re standing in a crowd of people singing along to your favorite songs coming from your favorite band and you know all the words and you’re sweating through your clothes, but it doesn’t matter? It doesn’t matter because tomorrow you can be the responsible human, tomorrow you can be the other side of your personality that makes the sandwiches and keeps up with the laundry, but tonight your husband has the kids for a cousin sleep-over so you only have to worry about the business of eating, drinking and dancing along to good music.

My little sister and I, we had one of those nights. The Turnpike Troubadours were in the big town for the state fair and so I got dressed and then re-dressed and then I dressed her in the outfit I was going to wear (before I changed my mind) and we left our daughters home with a “Sleepover To-Do List” that included a “Chad Makeover” and “Mario Karts” and a “Movie Night” and for some reason, “Bird Watching.”

I’m not sure they got to the bird watching portion of the evening but judging by the way my closet looked when I returned, they definitely got to the makeover part of the program. (Also, there is photographic evidence of my husband wearing my floral skirt and a shawl with his feet crammed into my pink wedge heels that I will cherish for the rest of my life, indicating that maybe they all had one of those nights too…)

Anyway, my little sister and I, we didn’t plan on staying out all night. It’s very possible that we could have taken to the grandstands, sipped our drinks and tapped our toes, clapped at the encore and called it a night. But maybe the fact that we could pick the restaurant and not have to order a kids’ meal made us feel a little more free. That and the fact that we ran into some friends who called us down a bit closer to the stage to sing along and pretty soon the music moved us right into the front, standing up against the rails and chanting “One more song!” along with the hundreds of people behind us.

Who did we think we were? 22?

Apparently. Because after that one more song, we didn’t go home. Nope. We found another place to listen to music. And then another place to dance. And then, well, that’s about where the blisters started shouting “Hello up there,” and we decided to call it a night, but only after a quick stop at the corn dog stand. I had to trade shoes with my little sister to make the walk back to our ride, like Cinderella, I had run out of time…

But isn’t that what little sisters are for? To lend you their shoes in desperate times. To borrow your shorts and new shirt and belt. To obsess over a band together. To dance like dummies. To share a hotel room and get home too late and laugh off embarrassing moments and to really listen to the lyrics of the new song you love on the drive home. Like silently listen through the whole thing to understand why it means something to you. 

Anyway, I’m recounting all of this to remind you of that person you have in your life. You likely don’t need to be reminded; you likely talk every day. But maybe it’s been a while. Maybe you need to schedule a supper. Or a concert. And also, I want to  tell you that you can have nights like this. Maybe the late night-hot-and-humid-blister-feet version doesn’t appeal to you, but there is a version out there waiting for you to forget the bills and the broken air conditioner. There’s a version that you’ve been putting off because you don’t think you can be that person anymore. Or maybe it’s too much of a hassle. There’s a version that allows you the space to leave the kids with someone you trust and go be the version of yourself you used to so freely be, before you found all the reasons not to be her…

Even if it’s 1000 degrees and 100% humidity. Even if you stay up five hours past your bedtime.

And blisters? Well, they heal.