I have now been to Graceland three times: once with my mother, cousins and aunts in the summer of 1979, once with my mother and Justin (during his 8 year old Elvis phase), and tonight. Have I been by Graceland at night before? Yes. At Christmas? Not until tonight.

What a wonderful and magical place Graceland must have been during the holidays when Elvis lived. But as magical as it must have been, and as magical as it appears tonight, it is also kind of sad.

I walked along the same sidewalk I walked as an eight year old, and looked at the same driveway I saw in 2009 and felt a profound sadness for Elvis. A sad, lonely man who died at too young an age. And a longing for my mother. A woman who so badly wanted to live, but who died at the relatively young age of 66.

On a less macabre subject, I had a most delightful Uber driver. She took me to Graceland and waited while I snapped some pics, then brought me back. I also know all about her kids, her ex-husband, her ex-husband’s first ex-wife and his third ex-wife. She was number two.

Tomorrow, Oklahoma City.

Days