I met my husband when I came home from a rainy day of college classes to find him sitting on my couch.
He was in my apartment with some other friends of my roommate.
He was wearing a long-sleeved Nightwish t-shirt.
Nightwish was supposed to play in Atlanta in 2005 (2006?) but cancelled their tour when they lost (kicked out) their singer – J’s tickets to that show are in a box in our storage building. Eventually they found another singer, then another. We have albums and documentaries and live show recordings from those years. Y’all. We would watch the End of an Era live show recording and CRY together while I was pregnant with Quinn and J was recovering from cancer-related surgeries.
Nightwish is woven into the tapestry of our relationship.
I was up super insanely late one night and happened to ask The Google about Nightwish. Because The Google is a genius and insane, the first thing I saw was a tour schedule, with a stop in Birmingham. I decided I was hallucinating. I went to bed. The next day it was still true (and to this day I get the absolute creeps when I think about it).
We got tickets.
The day of the show, Jonathan decided maybe we should skip it. I told him he could stay home but I was going to see this dearly beloved band.
It has occurred to me (just now) that maybe the Nightwish shirt was a challenge – what was this Nightwish, and why was the artwork appealing but the band name totally unfamiliar?
The world may never know.
a journal at meganfloyd.com 