A warmth begins growing inside me, a tingle in the belly, a softness in the brain, a tightness in the throat. Beauty. Such beauty. I feel the perspiration on. My palms and rub them together, clasp them together, whence before they grasped the arms of the chair. A clam my sweat and chill roll down my spine, my ears feel too large for my body and ache like a belly punch, my feet grip my shoes, and I cannot bear to blink for I may miss one moment, one moment in which all wonder and majesty unfold before me and leave me gasping for air from the lungs that had long since died and we're laid to rest by the angels.
The girl on stage has ended her song, and the audience applauds, to my chagrined I applaud too. For in that moment though strangers, I could feel her mother beside me, and imagined what it would be like to be in her shoes.
The daughterless mother weeps for the songs that have never been sung, the plays, the dances, the dates. All I can do is watch the joy on the mother's face and imagine how it could have been.
No comments:
Post a Comment