exactly one year ago,
I was on stage,
clomping around in clunky shoes,
thick, nude stockings,
and a tent-like tunic from the 50s,
while performing as Mrs. Martha Arable,
Fern’s mother in a community theatre production of Charlotte’s Web.
Right this minute, exactly one year ago,
I was tired.
Tired, and a bit disheveled.
See?


See, that’s me, ready to leave for my evening performance. At the time this picture was taken, I had already performed in a matinee and celebrated at my Mother-in-law’s surprise 60th birthday luncheon.
Oh, and in case you were wondering, that’s what my hair looks like after it’s been sprayed, moussed, pinned, covered in a hair net, yes, a hair net, and then unpinned, hastily, and thrown atop my head.
Oh, and in case you were also wondering, that hand belongs to my husband. Don’t get any ideas.
He had to wish me luck for my performance,
and to give his little girl a little pat before she went up on stage.
I remember waiting in the stage right wing, that night,
as I checked my props,
and willing the baby to kick me for luck;
Watering can? check.
Mixing bowl? check.
Hankies? check.
Baby Bottle? check.
Baby Kick?
Come on, baby. Kick.
And then, just like that, she did.
I remember feeling so amazed,
and so bonded with my tiny girl,
as she listened to me,
and knew what I needed,
right at that moment.
I must say, she did wonderfully at her stage debut that weekend.
She was quite a star.
And since that private, quiet, wonderful backstage moment,
our bond has only grown and grown.
Right this minute,
tonight,
it’s stronger than ever.