Thursday, Week Four
And how could it possibly be, in the face of a cold cruel world, where hundreds of thousands suffer daily, that I should enjoy such good fortune? Despite the desolation of my Tuesday, and the difficulty of my Wednesday, on Wednesday night, after stories, my children, bless their adorable, godswollen, lovefired hearts, covered me with my favorite blanket, the one inscribed with love messages from 1999's Once Upon A Mattress cast, put the dog in his room, kissed me, turned out the lights, and took themseles off to bed.
When Scotty arrived a bit early, how is it he did not make fun or even smile at helping me to fasten my bra? How is it I am lucky enough to have a friend I adore, who married a husband I adore, who is such good, quiet, friendly, funny company?
And my employer for a mere two years, who loves me with a passion and devotion that rightfully ought to be reserved for family, how do I find myself adorned with her care, given to me, given freely, by her puresouled nature? Lisa Dabbs, one of the most amazing humans it has been my priviledge to meet, to know, to share stories and wisdom, how stupifying that here am I grateful, GRATEFUL to be in need of her touch, simply in order to bask in the glow of her internal light.
Back again to Scotty, who made me feel as though I had done him great favors by paying for lunch at the Chinese buffet, when it was his sweetness that brought me there, where he filled my plate three times, who took me next door to buy thank you notes, knowing that it was important to me, helping me pick nice ones that expressed my feelings and my personality, how delightful to have in my life someone not married to me who expresses such tender care of my wishes.
Oh, but his wife, his wife, who allowed herself to be quoted, quoted for publication, as saying something about me that was almost- but not quite- completely out of character, which was this: "She is a wonderful, creative, artistic person and the best friend anyone could have. I will do anything I can to ease her suffering and worry." Ditto, Mrs. Crowe. Ditto.
Last week, it was Ruthie, who drove me around on Halloween Day to Wal-Mart and Dollar Stores to buy front-clasp bras and sundries, so cheerful and such a delight to be around, never allowing me or my children to feel burdensome.
Though I never cared for Barbara Streisand, I begin to understand the lyric, "people who need people/ are the luckiest people/ in the world.
Mmmm, Babs... you may be onto something, babe. You really may.
In many ways, this has been a wonderful learning experience. I will never be the same, in a GOOD way. I needed to learn balance in my life, not just when performing. Amazing how such a perfect dramatic physical metaphor should serve as the implement of my deconstruction.