L is at her first rock festival. This is a big deal. I worry about her drinking or taking drugs. But also I worry about her not eating. She is up early. Cereal bars are packed. She has a good breakfast. And at half six, off she goes. Not to return until the early hours. As the door closed behind her I want to run after her with sun cream. But I leave her to go.
The hours pass with no update. I check Twitter endlessly. Nothing. And then, just after 8, the phone rings. A squeal of MUMMMMYYYYYYY! reverberates from the phone. L babbles about crowd surfing during the performance of her favorite band. She squeals again and again. She IS SO FUCKING HAPPY!!!! I smile and listen and tell her I love her. This is the sound of recovery. And I love this sound.