All The World's a Stage

Have you ever had lived those moments that are perfect right down to their roots? They're the kind of moments that outlive you and float around somewhere after you're gone. They're the kind of moments that make your heart jump and quiver and crack just enough to make space for another human soul to come in.

                           ___________________________________________

She's not hard to love. Just a little thing, shy. Like a fawn unsure of its legs. She dances, but tears pool at the corners when she hears whispers. Her glance is a silent plea for a little house with smoke pouring out the chimney and a tea kettle whistling on the stove. A plea for just a little love.

He's brooding, alone again. He didn't want to see life's inside seams, the fraying edges. He wanted it brand spankin' new with the tags still on. But that's not how he got it. The years are few and the hopes fewer. The questions haunt the edges of his mind, but if he never looks at anything straight on he can manage to avoid seeing them, hearing them, thinking them. Now is the moment that matters, but even Now doesn't always matter. Sometimes all that matters is having a heart beating warm beneath his cheek, a hand smoothing his hair, a voice whispering that it'll all be okay.

                          ___________________________________________

I watch from the dark behind the heavy folds of curtain, breath caught, chest tight, eyes roving my script in the light of a flashlight. "Bravo!" my heart cries, "Bravo!" The dark wraps itself around, taking me back, far back, to when I was the one in the spotlight. Now I'm on the other side of the curtain arranging bread in baskets, making sure the pitcher has water in it, checking to see whether Man #2 has found the mate to his shoe. I find myself content. Content to be in the dark, content to forget to breathe while I watch it all come to life, content to whisper, "Break a leg." Content to feel my chest stretch with the pride it can't hold inside. Bravo!

                         ___________________________________________

She sees the Boy Who Knows It All, arguing again. She can seeing it coming. In her mind's eye, his legs lengthen, his head shoots up a foot, and his jaw grows dark with stubble. It's coming. She sees it coming.

She sees the Boy Who Knew It All, too. He's sitting in the corner, thinking. Just thinking.

The future is a heavy thing.

                       ___________________________________________

If a heart cracks wide enough, there's space for the whole world to come inside.