There have been two times in my life that a form of entertainment had moved me to yearn for it not to end.
One of Ken’s favorite movies is Fiddler On The Roof. Early in our marriage, he suggested we watch it. I was resistant at first. It is such a long movie. And it is a musical. I just wasn’t in the mood for all that singing.
But Ken persisted and finally won.
Once the movie began, I became glued to the screen.
And when it ended, I cried. “That can’t be all there is.”
The second time this phenomenon happened, I was the one who had to be persistent. I had long dreamed of seeing The Nutcracker Ballet live.
Ken was less than enthusiastic, but for me, he caved, and in December 2007, the 21st to be exact, we saw The Nutcracker Ballet from the best seats. We were in the second row, directly behind the orchestra box. We could see clearly that the conductor was balding, but I digress.
We could also see every muscle ripple as true artists floated across the stage.
Then it ended. I was perched on the edge of my seat, clinging to the backrest of the one in front of me. Tears streamed from my eyes. It could not be over. They surely had to come back and do an encore number.
Alas, it was over. I dried my tears and walked away.
And here we have an excellent example of why I have not been writing lately. I am clueless as to where I was headed. Yes, things end, but what specifically now?
I’ve had a bit of a relapse because of all the stress in my life. My pain is greater. My dyslexia worse. And my memory is once again Swiss cheese. I can remember things past as clear as day, as above, but I cannot remember spit about what Ken asked me two minutes ago. I have the feeling it was important, too.
Some time has passed, and I still cannot remember where this post was originally headed. If I ever do remember, I’ll get back to you.