It is the day before.
The day before my daughter turns me into radical fan.
The day before she convinces me to go hardcore crazy and help her secure a front row seat at our first ever summer cel concert.
That is the goal.
Secondary, but no less tenacious in her quest, would be to meet the artist and obtain an autograph.
Now this is no love-sick teenager hoping to catch the eye of joe-no-talent-lip-syncing member of a boy band, with the end result being a hand she never washes or some article of clothing she loses to the stage.
No, this my friend, is a cause and goal for one reason and one reason alone. It's her quest for the words Wynona Judd scribbled and readable only to her. She imagines a giant "W" forever embedded on her guitar with a permanent sharpie all because of one thing and one thing alone.
We will rise at dawn, stake our claim to a place in line, and entertain ourselves all day while we traipse towards mordor. Today, the day before, holds hope. Tomorrow will be memorable even if we're 3 or 4 rows back and the sharpie lays idle in the guitar case.
The day after, we will have our photos and memories. We're a mother and daughter on a mission. All for the simple act of listening, singing along with, dancing and enjoying the concert of someone who is the antithesis of today's pop icons.
This concert will have what is lacking in most others, some call it a god-given gift, but extreme, drastic, ultra-fans like us would simply use the word, TALENT.
Somebody please get me a cigarette lighter.