Flashback: Two years ago tonight, a tornado of thoughts swirled around in my head as I stood in line to meet  Rick Springfield.

I was still on a high from the concert, which was the first RS show I had seen in 15 years. I was about to meet – for the second time, the first time was at a L.A. music store in 1999 when he signed his new “Karma” CD – the man whose face was plastered on my bedroom walls in the 1980s and whose songs played on a loop throughout my teenage years. About eight months earlier, I had started writing this blog after discovering an interview with him about his novel “Magnificent Vibration” on our public TV station website and was curious what else he had been up to. After reading his memoir “Late, Late at Night” and catching up on his music over the past few years, I found myself hooked once again.

So here I was with a little glimpse of him at the front of the line trying to think of what I could possibly say to him that could sum up all that I was feeling.

Fortunately I had the foresight to bring a note to the show with this blog address on it, with the hope that I would have the opportunity to give it to him.

This was a good thing because the interaction lasted about 10 seconds and consisted of six words. Six words: “This is for you.” “Thank you.”

Then a photographer took our picture, RS put my note in his pocket and my time was up.

(For the full account, see these previous posts: “A brief crossing of paths” and “My meet and greet.” You can see the little piece of paper in his hand in our picture, which is a cool reminder of how our paths crossed. Whether he read that little piece of paper, I’ll probably never know, but the scenarios concocted by the teenage part of my brain are pretty incredible. )

Today’s date is particularly significant to me because it would have been my mom’s 72nd birthday (which was on my mind two years ago, on what would have been her 70th birthday. In fact, I still think she may have had something to do with me getting backstage to meet him because she knew what a big fan I was.)

This year also marks 20 years since she died, which I find so unbelievable. There are so many things I wish I could talk to her about, especially since I am now a mom myself.

(It didn’t occur to me until recently that she was so much closer to RS’s age than I am. I wonder what she thought of that.)

This time of year I also think about how young she was when she died – 52 years old – and how close I am getting to that age.

Sorry this post ended up being such a downer. But life is filled with up and down moments and sometimes that has to be acknowledged.

So in memory of my mom, here are the lyrics to a song I wrote a year after she died.

A Year Ago Tomorrow

A year ago tomorrow
You breathed your last breath
The first step of a journey
A beginning and an end

A year ago tomorrow
I whispered in your ear
There was no way of knowing
If you could even hear

Time passes so quickly
One chance and then it’s gone
You must make the most of each moment
And hope your memory lingers on

Six to twelve months the doctors guessed
It turned out you only had six weeks left
Six weeks to say goodbye
Six weeks to wonder why

You spent your 52nd birthday in a hospital bed
“Happy Birthday” the balloons, cards and flowers said
We soon reversed our roles, I became the parent and you the child
I fed you lemon icees, the taste made you smile

I’m looking at an old photograph
It’s painful to know there’s no turning back
But time, like your killer, has no cure
Your future is the present and the past is but a blur

A year from now tomorrow
Who knows where we’ll be?
There’s no way of knowing
Your destiny.

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