July 6th, 2008 I find myself at the Rothbury Music Festival in Rothbury, MI. This was an epic weekend for a jamband junkie like myself. I hadn't been this excited for a festival of music since the first Bonnaroo. Both line-ups were, for the most part, analogous to each other. Widespread Panic, Warren Haynes, this particular era's version of The Dead, String Cheese Incident and Trey Anastasio ... solo. The last festival I saw Trey perform was at Coventry four years earlier. When Phish bowed out in that dismal, muddy, and heartbreaking town I left more than my shoes behind. A part of me, I thought at the time, was gone forever. Good-bye to the road. Good-bye to my 20's. Hello "normal" life. With a daughter who was barely one and another who would come a few years later it was like the universe gave me a break. "Ok, family man, your ass is changing diapers and building a career now and not worrying about having to go through Chicago to get to Alpine Valley from Deer Creek in less than two hours." I had embraced this fate. Of course it helped that Panic and TAB rolled through town yearly and I got my fix... sort of. I even had the pleasure of seeing Page play solo in Detroit and it was on a night Justin Verlander was pitching a no-hitter so the place cleared out and he basically sang “Strange Design” to the phamily that was left standing. Beautiful. When the Rothbury Music Festival was announced I was giddy. I had ultimately made some connections in town that were into the same music I was and I had finally gotten up the courage to pick up an instrument. This would be an impeccable opportunity to dance with friends and jam at the campground. The fact that is was mere hours from my home created a perfect storm. The Rothbury grounds, which would later become The Electric Forest, consists of picturesque sprawling woodlands right out of Robin Hood but with influences from the merry prankster acid tests and Abstract Expressionism enhancing the nature. The first three days were comprised of many personal highlights which included chilling backstage with old college buddies, Pgroove’s Brock and Adam, witnessing a high energy Disco Biscuits set, seeing Snoop Dog play to the hippies, experiencing the power of the Black Keys for the first time, and observing STS9 destroying late night. All of that was fine and dandy, but I was ready for the final day which included Trey’s acoustic set, Mike’s band and the likely Fishman sit in. My crew settled in as close as we could for Trey’s acoustic set. It was midday and hot, Africa hot. (Not really, I just like the Biloxi Blues reference) I was stationed next to my friend Jeff who the phish gods had thrust into my life just in the knick of time. Jeff sat next to me at a new employee orientation meeting a few months earlier and I was flipping though the some pictures on my laptop. The pictures were in fact that of the solo Page show I mentioned previously. Just being myself, I couldn’t help but show him the pictures that I just took. I literally said: “Hi, my name is Eric. I’m into jamband music, I REALLY like this band called Phish”. He politely smiled and said, “I’m Jeff, and I think we’re going to get along just fine”. Turns out Jeff had been to the Great Went, the Gorge, Alpine, was at some killer 97 shows and had an impressive touring record himself. Thank you universe. Jeff and I perched up as Trey walked on stage and started with “Back on the Train”. Immediately I thought this was a sign. I confess, I was looking for any type of sign. Trey played wistful and delicate. The set consisted of laid back and reflective tunes. “Brian and Robert”, “Secret Smile”, “Driver”, “Mountains in the Mist” all calmed the beast of the energetic crowd anticipating and hoping for a signal… ANY signal. Then came “Wading in the Velvet Sea”. The last Wading I saw Page was crying, Trey was crying, and we were crying. Like Pavlov’s dog my eyes welled up and this led into “Sleep Again”. The ghosts of my Phish past glided past my brain, my first show, waiting on line at The Clifford Ball, MSG, and the rain in Raleigh. I thought I was over this. I wasn’t. On the side of the stage, a beacon of hope emerged with pants of purple illuminated by the midday sun, it was Mike and he didn’t have no sleeves. Trey welcomed the cactus on stage and the scene gushed with delight. What would they play? Possum? Train Song? The elusive Destiny Unbound? No, it was a new song written for Trey by Tom Marshall as part of a birthday tradition the two of them share. This was “Backwards down the number line” and Trey literally taught Mike backstage five minutes before the set. This was one of those songs you felt you knew the words to even though you’ve never heard it. As soon as the chorus kicked in and the repetition of “All my friends come backwards down the number line” began to take shape I felt that feeling I had long forgot. I looked at Jeff. “Dude, this is a fucking PHISH song!” It felt right. Mike came up with a really nice bass run that had Trey smiling bigger than I had seen in ages. This was the sign I had been waiting for all weekend. The icing on the cake was Trey and Fishman joining Mike’s band later on for “She Said, She Said” but that moment was merely celebratory. I didn’t need an official announcement. The boys were getting back together. We would have Phish again.