Friday, February 28, 2014

And We Are But The Players

Here I sit again, with a flashlight to disperse the darkness that hangs so thick. All around me is the hush of muffled footsteps, whispers, stifled laughter. And out there beyond us an audience cheers the hero, boos the villain, and laughs at all the right times.

This time around a new face sticks out. Body taut with anxiety, the only part of him that moves is his foot inside its cowboy boot. Tap, tap-tap, tap, tap, tap. His friends laugh with nervousness and hold hands in a circle to screw up the courage to face the crowd. And him? He sits in a corner tapping. Years of living with a father whose insatiable thirst cast a shadow on his home has had its effect. Earlier today he had an attack, the anxiety crushing him and stopping all speech. Now all I can hear in the darkness is the tap, tap, tap-tap. 

The lights come up, and the tapping stops, then moves stage right and out in front of them, the eyes. All of the eyes. My breath catches. And then I hear his voice. He is no longer the cowerer, the tapper. He is someone else, and he is magnificent. 

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Lanky, tall, straggly hair, acne. The new kid who fits all the stereotypes. Dad says he never would have guessed he'd ever see his shy son on a stage. Mom says he's learning to fit in.

He says he feels like a celebrity.

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He had missed it again, for the third time this week. The whole thing sunk because the words...they just weren't there. The more he tried to find them, the more elusive they became. His tongue felt swollen with embarrassment. He couldn't really apologize anymore. Even those words started escaping.

And tonight? Tonight is the real deal. Shaking, he clasps the gavel, lifts the curtain, and strides out. I listen intently as word after word drop like leaves in a stream, one, then another, then another. Soon the whole stream is full of leaves, the whole room is full of words. The last echo dies, and he exits.

He comes back into the dark broken only by the light of my flashlight, and I can't stop looking at him. I've never seen such unabashed joy fill up a person. I'm seeing something odd, something unexpected. I'm seeing redemption wearing nothing but a bolo tie and a smile that lights up like a crescent moon. 


2 comments:

  1. I think I told you this in person, but before I hop off the computer, I'll tell you again.

    This post of yours is one of my favorites. Wonderfully written with your heart and his shining through. You Saw that boy in a way I hope others do as he moves along.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you. I'm grateful for these glimpses.

    ReplyDelete