I spent the first two decades of my life performing. From living room concerts with family held hostage, to dance competitions in faraway places, to high school musicals and halftime cheer routines, to aerial silks class in college. I came of age on the stage and under the lights.
I’d like to thank my mom for teaching me to love my body, and for encouraging me to pursue the arts. I’d like to thank my dad for securing my false eyelashes in place with precision, and for cheering me on like he wanted nothing more on a Saturday than to sit in an auditorium for hours and hours. And hours.
I haven’t revisited that part of me since becoming a mom. But this season, my three daughters auditioned for the Homer Nutcracker Ballet. And then my husband joined in. Finally, my son hopped on the stage crew.
Me? I am delivering food and monitoring halls and securing buns in place with bobby pins and so, so, much hairspray. My heart is swollen with pride; my face, with happy tears. I get it now. There is something terrifyingly, beautifully powerful about watching your people cultivate and share such gifts with the world.
Opening night was a blast.
No Comments