When my husband was three he decided he wanted to entertain the world. When he was five he directed and starred in his own rendition of Indiana Jones in his back yard. At age 10 he started running professional haunted houses, by his third year they were good enough to charge money to enter. He was lucky, he knew from the first moments of life that he was meant to be an entertainer.
When he was a young teen he decided he wanted to play Tom in The Glass Menagerie. Twenty years later, with the aid of a brilliant director and surrounded by strong talent, he’s dream is happening. There is nothing more poignant than watching your love walk into their dream and execute it candor and clarity of purpose so strong that an entire audience is enraptured.
The month before a play opens is torture. I am alone 20 hours a day, responsible for all the childcare, household chores, cooking, cleaning and chauffeur duties a modern family requires, with the saving grace being my amazing parents jumping in to ease the stress. The four hours Dave is home daily are spent sleeping. We see each other long enough to high-five in the hallway, to give group hugs to the kids, perhaps to remind each other to breath. Sometimes it feels like the five minutes we see each other were used to throw our angst against the wall, as if we had returned to toddler-hood, the only stage of life where repelling those we love to prove they always come back is actually appropriate. Preserving those moments for peace and happiness would be far more beneficial to our relationship, but yelling felt cathartic, too, for both of us.
But then opening night happens, as it always does, just four days after I have lost my mind and one day before I say or do anything regrettable because of it. And then, as I watch the man I love share his talent with the world, the talent that he recognized and cultivated since the earliest moments of his cognitive development, I realize that it would be selfish to live any other way. Not everyone can transform the world through live performance, but he can. As Dave’s character struggles to juggle the dichotomy of requirement vs. passion, I feel honored that my husband is one less brilliant sole trapped writing poetry in a warehouse.
If you have never seen a Puzzle Piece show and would like to, leave a comment on this post and I will give you a $5 discount on each ticket you purchase.