One of my castmates asked us to share an “I’m excited” selfie before our first read through today. I was in the pharmacy drive through line picking up Little One’s antibiotics (conveniently, strep befell our house this morning, in time for him to be deposited at 8 am by his grandparents who had him overnight for our anniversary. Happy romantic day to sleep in!)– and was trepidatious at best about the whole thing:
I wasn’t quite feeling it, but never one to be left out of the selfie game, I triumphantly posted. Kind of secretly feeling self doubt and wariness and a little bit of “oh shit” cause I had to actually read this thing aloud. It was very much about me and what I would feel, and would they like me, and would I be good enough… me, me, me.
Fast forward about 3 hours and I can tell you that I am unequivocally all about my castmates. I sat around, utterly mesmerized and totally sucked in to each and every one of their funny, sad, poignant and beautifully written pieces. Such that, when it finally got to me, I sort of forgot that I was even doing a read-through. I felt, instead, like I’d just been given a precious gift, a magic key, that unlocked the utterly truthful stories of the family of folks around that table. We were all able to suspend all of the other things around us and just BE for each other. And that is RARE. When do we ever just stop all of the twittering, posting, maniacal texting and just SIT with someone else as they tell their story?
The beauty was not lost on me as we sat in Charleston– a community currently reeling from the death of Walter Scott, an African-American gentleman shot down by a white police officer last week– that we were all there because we all matter. Every walk of life is present in this show; every essay the perfect puzzle piece needed to present the full story; every scar, battle, loss, love, belly laugh and tear shed is because WE ALL MATTER.
This is what BEING there for another person looks like. Words, tissues, a cup of coffee.
So, world, let this be my FORMAL announcement that I am part of the cast of Listen to Your Mother Charleston 2015. The show is on May 3 at the Charleston Music Hall. What I am reading is not yet on this blog, but I’ll leave you with a snippet:
“…being a Mom sometimes feels like skydiving with a parachute on your back that you’re only pretty sure will open but you have to smile and say “it’s ok! of course it will open!” to everyone who asks you.”
Come watch me and my fellow castmates parachute together.