I know that, last night, the 11-year old Girley inside of me thought she would collapse from sheer, pure joy.
I know that memories flooded back from the past–watching the five guys sing and dance in my living room and wanting to be one of the those crazed Girls in the live audience; refusing to allow my Sis to acknowledge her favorite New Kid while I loudly acknowledged mine (Jordan Knight 4-eva) and how cool he was.
I know that when the lights turned off and the stage works began, I truly understood why all those Girls fainted when Michael moonwalked, or screamed their heads off when McCartney smiled, or currently go nuts when Jonas 1, 2 or 3 do whatever it is they do. I got it. I felt it. I went nuts.
I know that, out of all the concerts and all of the shows, this one kind of meant something. It was a trip back to the past, which made it all the more thrilling. Because, most of the time, you can’t do that, can you?
I know that the place was filled with a million girls who felt the same way we did.
I know that next week, I will have likely forgotten this concert (well, no, unlikely), but the memories really aren’t going anywhere.
So here’s to nostalgia. Yummy.