ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢꜱ, ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴀᴛᴇꜰᴜʟ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ɪɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇ
the grateful dead sounds like sunday mornings to me.
my dad at the stove, cooking eggs.
my mom at the counter, cutting fruit.
music filling the house before we ever sat down together —
a rhythm that lived beneath everything.
late sunday mornings were slow.
the house was full of energy and music and love.
that feeling of being held by sound, by people, by time itself.
that music is stitched into my nervous system.
into memory.
into belonging.
i’m writing this now in a moment that feels tender and transitional —
leaving the mountain air for a while,
returning to family,
tending to my health,
letting myself be held again after years of standing on my own.
the grateful dead has always been my bridge between generations.
between who i was held by
and who i am now holding.
i saw jerry garcia at his last show in chicago —
my parents’ arms around me,
their bodies steady,
mine small.
i met sip at a furthur show in 2010.
found him again — and never let him go —
at a lotus concert in 2013.
music has always been how life found me.
and now, in this moment in time,
sensing the elders of that music still carrying the thread —
bob weir among them —
something in me softens.
it isn’t about loss.
it’s about lineage.
it’s about realizing that what shaped you keeps moving forward —
even as you change,
even as your body asks for care,
even as you circle back to the people who first taught you how to belong.
we’re heading back to chicago for a season.
not to escape.
not to end anything.
but to widen the circle around our small, beautiful family for now.
more hands.
more shared meals.
more laughter carrying us through harder days.
and more listening —
to my body,
to what it needs,
to what support actually looks like.
this season feels like a return.
not backwards — but inward.
toward the places and people that formed me.
back to fuller rooms.
back to long tables.
back to being held.
the music is still playing.
so are we.
still learning how to listen.
♡ ᴄᴀʀᴍᴇʟ ʀᴏsᴇ
The Still Point
