A Glimpse
Tonight at an actor's seminar, I ran into a kindred spirit.
We seem to be in similar places in the business and together we voiced our frustrations and commiserated while sitting in a hallway, waiting to sing. I auditioned after her and when I walked out, she was waiting there, just to see how it went, just to hear how I felt.
She waited again when I changed into jeans and waited even longer after that when I told her, like the five year old that I am, that I really had to go to the bathroom. Then we talked and laughed all the way to the subway. I walked her to the C train on 8th Avenue and lingered for awhile to hear the end of a story, a saga, something about a boy. It didn't matter.
I watched her little blonde head bob down the steps to the train and I began to walk eastward. I felt lighter, happier, more peaceful, more certain, less alone, all those things you feel when you are in New York City and suddenly out of the crowd, someone moves toward you and you connect. I knew it in my heart, that a tiny seed of kinship had worked it's way inside me and had firmly planted itself among a few withering, broken things.
And when I walked past the restaurants on 50th Street, where couples were holding hands and sipping on glasses of wine, my heart didn't ache as badly as usual. And when I walked past the Broadway theatres where my peers were at that very moment performing, my soul didn't sink.
I took note of it. And I shrugged a bit. And I just walked on.
We seem to be in similar places in the business and together we voiced our frustrations and commiserated while sitting in a hallway, waiting to sing. I auditioned after her and when I walked out, she was waiting there, just to see how it went, just to hear how I felt.
She waited again when I changed into jeans and waited even longer after that when I told her, like the five year old that I am, that I really had to go to the bathroom. Then we talked and laughed all the way to the subway. I walked her to the C train on 8th Avenue and lingered for awhile to hear the end of a story, a saga, something about a boy. It didn't matter.
I watched her little blonde head bob down the steps to the train and I began to walk eastward. I felt lighter, happier, more peaceful, more certain, less alone, all those things you feel when you are in New York City and suddenly out of the crowd, someone moves toward you and you connect. I knew it in my heart, that a tiny seed of kinship had worked it's way inside me and had firmly planted itself among a few withering, broken things.
And when I walked past the restaurants on 50th Street, where couples were holding hands and sipping on glasses of wine, my heart didn't ache as badly as usual. And when I walked past the Broadway theatres where my peers were at that very moment performing, my soul didn't sink.
I took note of it. And I shrugged a bit. And I just walked on.
1 Comments:
That is so nice.
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